


Sanctuary

by charlottelennox



Series: Beyond the Fence [1]
Category: Loki (Marvel) - Fandom, Loki - Fandom, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Brotherly Bonding, Canon Divergence - Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), F/M, First Time, Gen, Implied/Referenced Torture, Loki (Marvel) Angst, Loki (Marvel) Has Issues, Loki - Freeform, Loki-centric, Mild Sexual Content, POV Loki (Marvel), Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017), Ragnarok, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2019-03-29 15:08:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 30
Words: 100,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13929633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charlottelennox/pseuds/charlottelennox
Summary: He could tolerate the physical pain; if it had just been that, perhaps he would have fared better. But the mental torture broke him. Illusions, deceits, his own free will turned against him. His deepest fears became realities; his darkest secrets taunted him. By the end, Loki barely knew the difference between what was real and what was imagined, which thoughts were his own and which were placed there for him.Perhaps, he never would. There was a restless anxiety entombed into his bones now and it never ceased. His mind and his body had been taken from him; the prince who’d fallen from the bridge died an inglorious death.It left for many restless nights.Post-Ragnarok. Thor is king, and the Asgardian refugees have to decide what to do next. Their ultimate destination is Earth, but along the way, their need for fuel and supplies diverts leads them to a furlough on a new planet, and they must face the challenges therein.





	1. I

 

**I.**

Once, the only predictable part of Loki was the way he slept. Before he fell from the rainbow bridge, his patterns had been a rare consistency in someone so mischievously inconsistent. He liked to retire not long after night fell, liked to fall asleep watching the dusk fade into the darkness, and he rose with Asgard’s star, spilling golden warmth across his bed. The sun belonged to Thor, but in the dawn, when it was hued with rays of violet and primrose, Loki could have it for his own. It made him feel safe and whole, and it wasn’t until after he’d fallen that he lost that, too.

Loki thought of it often, his plunge into the abyss. Sometimes, he remembered letting go; other times, he was convinced Thor had thrown him. He did not know which was the reality, but what did it matter, when everything he’d known about his reality was a lie?

What mattered was the peace it had brought him. Everything was achingly, blindingly beautiful. The tapestry of the cosmos was splattered with stars, supernovas drenched in bright colors that put even the Bifrost to shame. It was silent, a silence so soft that it soothed his throbbing heart, made him feel weightless and free. After awhile, he was not even aware of the sensation of falling. The image of Thor’s anguished face blurred away; the torment of Odin’s soft _“Loki, no,”_ faded into nothing.

There were worse ways to die, Loki had thought. He’d wondered if there was a place in Valhalla for Frost Giants, or if heaven would spit out the monster lurking beneath. If the Norns were merciful, he would simply spend the rest of his eternity in an intercosmic bliss.

The Norns were not kind. Loki had landed with all of the shock and agony that falling from a great height would bring. When the roaring in his head dulled and his vision cleared, he could see no more exquisite colors; there was only a sky so black that even the stars were gone.

Loki found himself on a rock or a moon, a wretched, forsaken place infested with creatures who would carve him out from the core. They called it the Sanctuary, which Loki found incredibly ironic. There, he was hollowed into a shell to be molded and manipulated to the Titan’s whims.

He could tolerate the physical pain; if it had just been that, perhaps he would have fared better. But the mental torture broke him. Illusions, deceits, his own free will turned against him. His deepest fears became realities; his darkest secrets taunted him. By the end, Loki barely knew the difference between what was real and what was imagined, which thoughts were his own and which were placed there for him.

Perhaps, he never would. There was a restless anxiety entombed into his bones now and it never ceased. His mind and his body had been taken from him; the prince who’d fallen from the bridge died an inglorious death.

It left for many restless nights.


	2. II.

 

 

**II.**

It was the eighth night, as best as Loki could keep track, that he ran into Thor while the rest of the ship slumbered. With no solar cycle by which to measure the time, it was impossible to tell when it was day or night. As the Asgardian refugee ship made its journey toward Midgard, its inhabitants relied on their own internal cycles to determine the time of day, when to sleep and when to wake, when to eat and when to work.

The first several days, there was much to be done. By the end of the second day, they had completed a count of how many refugees were on board – a mere 2387, barely a sliver of Asgard’s population. By the fourth, there was a manifest, so they had a reference of the names, ages, and former jobs of the people they harbored.

Some families were intact. Most were not. There were children without parents, brothers without sisters, heartbroken men and women whose lovers and babes had not survived. For several days, the refugees moved about the ship like Hela’s undead soldiers, quiet and morose, mourning all that had been lost. This was the part of battle that no one told stories about. Glory and honor and heroism were exalted; devastation and grief were quietly tucked away.

Loki developed a routine that was somewhat consistent, if wholly uninteresting. It was he who’d initiated the manifest, who kept track of the names and numbers and figured out which passengers could do what work on board. The ship was a cargo vessel, Loki surmised, but it was well-fortified and held several levels of bunks and barracks.

They had a mess hall, and soon some of the women had collected the food supply in order to stock the kitchen and begin serving meals. In addition to the ship’s supply, many of the refugees had brought food with them, first to Heimdall’s hideaway in the mountains and then to the Bifrost. They had bread, fruit, vegetables, a bit of meat, and even some honey. They would need to ration, but they would survive.

Besides the mess hall, the most important development was a healing center. There was a handful of healers on board, along with a few apprentices, who had already been tending to the injured in the mountains. On the ship, it did not take them long to establish their infirmary, much to Thor’s relief. His first priority was the people, but he had never been one for details and organization, so much of the hows and whys fell to Loki, to the Valkyrie, or sometimes to Bruce Banner, who had changed back from the green beast about four days in.

Loki did not mind. It kept his mind full of tedium, preventing him from dwelling on recent events. Nights were harder. When the day’s tasks were completed and the evening meal ended, Loki found himself restless.

Sleep did not come for awhile and when it did, it was dark, spinning, mad; he heard the low rumble of the Titan’s laughter, a sound which grew louder until it became a roar, a scream – and Loki jerked awake, body drenched in a cold sweat, and he realized the scream had come from him.

He wondered how loudly he’d screamed and if anyone had heard; he waited, breathing in and out, but the ship around him was quiet and still.

Several minutes passed before Loki climbed out of bed. A shimmering flash and he was dressed; he left his quarters, mercifully private even if tiny, and sought out the common room where the Grandmaster kept his collection of liquors. Drink was the only supply they had a surplus of. In eight days, Loki had not seen the Valkyrie sober once, yet even she had not made a dent.

Loki assumed that the room would be empty, but Thor was seated on a black couch, nursing a glass of amber liquid.

He hesitated in the entryway. The brothers had not spent any time alone together since the very first night – _“If_ _you_ _were_ _here_ _,_ _I_ _might_ _even_ _give_ _you_ _a_ _hug_ _._ _”_ _“I_ _’_ _m_ _here_ _._ _”_ – and Loki did not know about Thor, but he knew _he_ was avoiding his brother. He was avoiding the potential for any conversation that could have run deeper than a report about the manifest or an update on the healing center.

He started to back up, noiselessly; he would return to his quarters, try for a drink of his own later, but then Thor spoke and, despite himself, Loki started. He was usually so stealthy when it came to sneaking up on people, his presence undetected until he wished it not to be, but perhaps, Thor could see what Loki tried to hide, too. “You may as well come in, brother,” Thor said, without turning around. “It doesn’t appear either of us are getting much sleep this night.”

Loki was silent, weighing his options, before he gave in and fully crossed the threshold. He walked over to the liquor shelf, choosing a red decanter filled to the brim with some sort of ruby liquid. It smelled close enough to wine. Loki poured himself a glass, and then turned to regard his brother. “You’re up late,” he remarked.

“You truly have a gift for speaking the obvious,” Thor replied, the corners of his mouth lifting. “What burdens you, brother?”

“Who says I am burdened?” He picked up the decanter and carried it and his glass to an armchair. He set the decanter on a glass table separating his chair from Thor’s sofa, and then he sat back, appearing as relaxed as ever.

“Just a guess.”

Loki studied Thor for a long moment, measuring him up as if to decide how this conversation was going to go. He looked as strange as he did familiar, the close-cropped roots of his hair surprisingly dark. The eye patch would have made him look more like Odin than ever, except the remaining blue eye held only exhaustion and worry, where Odin’s had exuded wisdom – and occasionally wrath.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Loki pointed out, finally. Thor must have felt Loki’s stare, but he did not look up from his glass. He wore the weight of recent events heavily.

Thor shrugged. “We’re all that’s left now, you know,” he said. “Our family.”

“Now who’s speaking the obvious?” Loki’s lips twitched, though he was not amused. Thor had never had trouble wearing his heart on his sleeve even during his most clear-headed of times; now, under the influence of exhaustion and worry and drink, he looked to be in the mood for exactly the type of emotional conversation Loki had been trying to avoid.

“Everything has happened so quickly,” Thor went on. “I have not had time to … really think on it, I suppose.” He downed the remaining contents of his glass and leaned forward to pick up Loki’s decanter, refilling it. “What are your intentions, brother?”

“My intentions?” Loki repeated, brow furrowing.

“I am surprised you have stayed this long. Certainly the menial tasks of the day to day do not interest you. Nor, I imagine, does the prospect of returning to Earth thrill you.”

There was silence. Loki took a large swallow of his wine. He didn’t know whether to be offended at Thor’s words, or to defer to the point – certainly, he did not truly care for busy work and he wasn’t convinced that the humans wouldn’t try to lock him into some prison the moment they realized he was back on their soil. And yet he stayed on the ship. Why? It wasn’t a question he could answer. “I am not plotting a coup,” he finally said, a sardonic lilt to the words. “If that’s what you are asking.”

“It wasn’t, but that’s good to know,” Thor replied, just as dryly.  “I just want to know how long you plan to be here.”

“If I knew, I would certainly tell you.” Loki swirled the red liquid around in his glass. His tongue had always been silver but never loose. But the answer to Thor’s question – _what are your intentions?_ – made him want to spit back. _Where else am I going to go?_

The cold truth of the matter was that Loki was as adrift as the rest of their sad little party. Surely he could have made his way elsewhere, gotten by somehow, but he lacked the desire to go wandering off on his own. Perhaps, that would change when they reached Midgard.

The brothers were quiet, each occupying himself with drink; Thor swallowed and poured more, while Loki sipped and made his last. Of the two of them, Thor was always the one fonder of drink; Loki did not like inebriation, did not like to not have his wits about him.

 _A good king does not seek_ _war, but must always be ready for it._ War came in all forms, not just on the battlefield, and Loki prided himself on always being ready.

It was exhausting.

“Since you bring it up,” Loki spoke, making Thor look up, “should I be concerned about what awaits me on Earth?”

“What do you suppose awaits you?”

The fine line between Thor being deliberately obtuse and genuinely thick had always irritated Loki. “I believe the term _war criminal_ was thrown around the last time I was there,” he reminded his brother wryly. “I have no intention of being locked in a Midgardian prison.”

“Nor do I have any intention of putting you in one,” Thor answered. “Don’t worry, Loki. I’m sure it will be fine.”

Loki narrowed his eyes, taking in Thor’s posture, the slump of his shoulders. Perhaps, Thor truly believed everything would be fine. In Loki’s experience, things were almost certainly never fine, but for the moment, he was content to let the matter go. Their journey would be long. He had time to come up with a plan or three to stow in his pocket.

Though he had not made much of a dent in his drink, Loki reached for the bottle and topped it off, anyway, just for something to do with his hands. He took a large swallow, topped it off again, and then returned the decanter, where Thor almost immediately picked it up. “What troubles are you drinking away in the middle of the night, brother?” Loki asked.

“What are you?” came Thor’s somewhat thick response. Oh, he was well on his way to drunk, now, and if Loki were truly as smart as he believed himself to be, he would have taken his leave before this got worse. “I believe I asked you that first.”

“You did, but I’m not in the sharing mood,” Loki said.

“Are you ever?”

“Not particularly.”

“The Three are dead,” Thor said, so abruptly that it took Loki a moment to connect it to their current conversation. Thor’s friends, the Warriors Three – Fandral, Volstagg, Hogun. How Loki had loathed them. Arrogant, dull warriors who likely never had an original thought that didn’t involve battle, women, or ale. In their youth, they had treated Loki like the outsider he was, the little brother tagging along, whom they tolerated for the sake of their friendship with Thor. When they were older, their dislike of him was thinly veiled, and after he had _fal_ _len_ – well. Certainly, there was no love lost between Loki and the Three.

“Do you know for certain?” Loki asked.

“Heimdall confirmed,” Thor responded. “They were felled by Hela’s sword when she first arrived in Asgard.”

“Undoubtedly, they died honorably.” Loki spoke the words only for Thor’s sake. “And what of Sif?” He’d sent her off world often while he was masquerading as Odin. She was not as simple-minded as her companions, and any prolonged time spent in Odin’s presence may have roused her suspicions that something was not quite right.

Loki had worn the Allfather’s form well and certainly he was cleverer than Sif, but the risk was a gamble he was not willing to take. Not with such high stakes. So he sent Lady Sif away. Whether or not she had returned while they had been trapped on Sakaar, however, was unknown to him.

Thor took his time in answering. “She is safe,” he finally said. “She’s on Midgard. Heimdall has confirmed that, too.”

“Surely that’s a comfort, then.”

“Yes,” Thor agreed. “It is. But she does not know what has transpired, and we have no way to contact her until we reach Earth ourselves. She is stranded.”

“But alive,” Loki reminded him, lest Thor get too lost in his worry. “Fret not, brother. Sif is pragmatic and strong. She’ll be fine.”

“I suppose.” A beat or two passed and then Thor spoke again, so quietly that Loki almost didn’t hear him.

“What?”

“I said,” Thor repeated, “Why did you do it? _How_ did you do it?”

It was Loki’s turn to feign ignorance. “You’ll have to be more specific, brother.”  

The impatience with which Thor looked at him then did remind Loki of Odin. “You know very well I am referring to your masquerade,” he said. “Was your intent to play me for a fool all along?”

“My intent was to play everyone for a fool,” Loki said lightly, though his fingers tightened around his glass. Why in the Nine did Thor insist upon _talking_? He had never been content to let sleeping dogs lie; he needed answers, explanations, truths. Sentiment would do that to a person, Loki thought – make them claw against stone until they drew blood, never stopping to realize the blood was their own.

“You were _impaled_ ,” Thor said flatly, as if Loki needed the reminder. “That was genuine, was it not? Unless you _planned_ to get run through. Was the plot hatched in the dungeons, then? I always wondered why the Kursed left you in your cell.”

“I’m flattered that you think I would have _that_ much foresight,” Loki scoffed. He absolutely would, and they both knew it. “I’ve no idea why that monster left me locked up, but I can assure you, brother, it was through no doing of mine.”

“Just a coincidence, I’m sure.” Thor did not bother to hide his doubt.

“Why are you asking me this?” Loki took a breath and let it out again, and then got to his feet to choose another drink. “It’s done with. What does it matter now?”

“It matters because I don’t understand you. You help me, you betray me, you help me … I meant what I said in the garage on Sakaar, Loki. I’m tired of your games. If I am to lead these people, I need to know that I can trust those around me. But you’ve built a trail of lies so long I can’t figure out where they end and my brother begins.”

Loki’s lips twitched in bitter amusement. Thor had no idea how truly deep his deception went. He was drenched in duplicity and manipulation, always one step ahead of everyone else. But Thor had gotten under his skin, back on Sakaar. It wasn’t just that he’d anticipated Loki’s betrayal, it was how nonchalant he’d been about it. _Our paths diverged long ago._

_It’s probably for the best we never see each other again._

_It’s what you’ve always wanted._

Yes, it was what Loki wanted – until it wasn’t. He did not know why those words dug at him so much. He did not want to admit that, very occasionally, he was just as pathetically sentimental as the rest of them. He did not want Thor to give up on him. He did not want to be alone.

 _Pitiful_ , he admonished himself.

There was a royal blue decanter on the shelf; Loki chose it, unscrewing the top to inhale the scent. Unfamiliar, but not unpleasant. He filled his glass to the brim and then replaced the decanter. All the while he felt Thor’s eye on him; the intensity of the glare he could not see made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

“Does it mean nothing that I came back, brother?” he finally asked, and turned to face Thor. “You left me electrocuting on the floor of that garage – thanks very much, by the way – yet I came to your aid. I came to _Asgard’_ _s_ aid. What more can I do?”

“You can answer a direct question, for one thing.” Thor slammed his glass onto the table, making Loki flinch, despite himself. “For all we have been through and all we face now, I at least deserve to know why you had me believe you dead for four years.”

“What other option did I have?” Loki demanded. He took a large swallow of his drink, not to inebriate himself but to steady himself; he could feel rage burning below the surface, a rage he’d learned to temper during his years on the throne, but barely. It was dangerous, that rage.

He reminded himself to breathe. His hands were shaking. Why must he let Thor get to him like this?

“You could have come to me.” Thor squeezed his eye shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. He was breathing unevenly, and when he dropped his hand and opened his eye, Loki could not tell if it was anger or pain reflected there.

What did it matter? “You left me to rot in my cell,” he said evenly. The rage inside of him was swelling higher, threatening to break through the surface. All of these things Loki had buried long ago, but Thor – honorable, trustworthy Thor – just couldn’t seem to resist digging them up. “You came to me only when you needed my help, and never before.”

He set his glass down on the table, a mere echo of Thor’s slam. He was always the echo, always the afterthought. “Then you left me for dead on Svartalfheim. So forgive me, dear brother, if I did not believe seeking you out was an option.”

At the reminder of Loki’s body, left in the sands and ashes of Svartalfheim, Thor’s face fell. “Loki, that wasn’t - ” Thor began, but Loki lifted a hand to cut him off.

His tongue itched with all of the words he wanted to spit – he wanted to ask why Thor had not made _certain_ Loki was dead. Why had he left him? Was he that eager to rid himself of the burden of his brother? Loki remembered Thor’s face above him, twisted in grief, and the next thing he knew he was coming to, hidden away but achingly alone, bleeding out, and the _pain_ – oh, the pain.

He'd figured out a spell to temper the wound, if not heal it completely. And then the idea struck him and took hold. Thor thought him dead. Thor had left him alone. Loki could reveal himself, and be returned to the dungeons under Asgard for his trickery – or, he could revel in a hero’s death, all while hiding in plain sight on the throne.

It was not a difficult choice.  

The words did not come. They stared at each other, each full of the things they could not say. Thor looked away first, and when he did, Loki exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “If you wish me gone,” he said, “I will take my leave first thing in the morning.”

“That isn’t what I want,” Thor argued. “I just want to trust you.”

“Well, I can’t help you with that.” Loki let the silence hang for a moment, and then he turned, needing to put space between himself and his brother. He heard Thor call his name, once, but it was a feeble effort. In the end, Thor simply watched him walk away.


	3. III.

 

 

**III.**

The monotony of the days pressed on him. Loki had taken for granted the ease of the Bifrost, the simplicity of the hidden pathways and wormholes he’d discovered over the centuries, escape routes to take him anywhere in the Nine Realms within the blink of an eye. Traveling the old-fashioned way, as it were, was tedious beyond what he could tolerate.

He and Thor had gone back to avoiding one another since their oh-so-enlightening chat. Their paths crossed at mealtimes, or in the halls, or when Loki chose to sit in on a meeting with Thor’s council, and each time they ran into one another, Loki felt asphyxiated under the weight of the tension. Occasionally, Loki caught Thor looking at him with an expression he could not read, Thor quick to look away when Loki met his gaze. Other times, it was Loki who was caught staring.

“Just talk to each other,” the Valkyrie said one day, dropping down into a seat across from Loki. It was the evening meal, and he and Thor had been eyeing each other across the mess hall. “Kiss and make up, or however you solve your royal family squabbles. When they’re not resulting in death and destruction, that is.” She took a long swig from her bottle.

Loki shot her a dark look. She mostly kept to herself, but when she did deign to grace him with her presence, it only served to irritate him. “I don’t recall asking for your opinion,” he snapped. He looked down at his portion of that evening’s beef stew, feeling his stomach clench and turn. He pushed the bowl across the table at her.

“As if you would, even if you wanted it,” she tossed back. “Not eating again?” Valkyrie clucked her tongue disapprovingly.

He rolled his eyes and didn’t answer. He’d never had a very big appetite, and over the years, as he’d needed to, he’d learned to use his magic to ease the searing in his stomach when he’d gone too many days without food. In the Sanctuary, after he fell, he went so long without eating that he lost track. Now, it was simply habit..

He didn’t explain this to the Valkyrie, or point out that she was one to talk, she who drank more than she ate. No need to prolong the conversation. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be?” he asked. “Cozying up to my brother, perhaps?”

When she was not either hiding away drinking or annoying Loki, she was with Thor. Loki had not missed the way that they looked at each other, just occasionally, when they thought no one was looking. Thor looked at her with adoration, the hero of his childhood in the flesh before him; Valkyrie looked at him like he amused her and she liked it, the faint smile always tugging at the corner of her lips.

They barely knew one another, but already they shared something, and it made Loki feel hollow to watch it.

“Jealous?” she quipped.

“Hardly. Just an observation.”

“Your brother isn’t the only one half blind, then,” she stated.

Loki’s brow furrowed. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means what it means.” She drank again, then took a large bite of his stew. “I suggest, Lackey, that you stop making assumptions about Thor and simply talk to him. It’s bloody irritating watching you two sulk about.”

“Your irritation is not my problem,” Loki told her. Despite himself, he glanced toward Thor’s table again. Thor was standing up, meal finished. He was laughing at something Bruce Banner had said; he clapped the other man on the shoulder, not noticing Bruce’s slight stumble forward. “Besides, Thor looks well enough.”

Valkyrie followed his gaze and shrugged. “He’s personable is all.”

“As he’s always been.” Loki fought to keep the bitterness out of his voice. Thor was personable and bright and golden, a presence everyone clamored to be near.

It had been so long since Loki and Thor had lived together in the day-to-day – before Thor’s banishment, if Loki was recalling correctly. The banishment, Loki’s fall, Midgard, prison. Thor’s adventures and battles, Loki’s deception and masquerade. They were practically children the last time they had shared the same domestic space, and Loki had allowed himself to forget how _irritating_ it was, watching Thor move about with ease, smiling and drawing people to him like honey drew a bee. It was as natural to him as breathing, and Loki could not help but feel the stirrings of old resentment and jealousy, pricking at his skin like needles.

“You could stand to learn a thing or two about that,” Valkyrie said, as if she were purposefully trying to rub salt in the wound.

“Look who’s talking,” Loki replied pointedly.

She only shrugged, draining the last of her bottle and getting to her feet. “I’m only saying, whatever petty thing you’ve quarreled about can be fixed.” She looked down, long hair curtaining her features. “We’ve all lost too much to not hold onto what we still have.”

How disgustingly saccharine. Loki’s mouth turned down at the corners; he had not taken her to be one for sentiment, but before he could bite out a response, she’d picked up his stew and walked away. He watched as she weaved her way through a few tables before depositing the mostly-full bowl down in front of a solitary little girl with long blonde plaits. Valkyrie leaned down, whispered something that made the girl smile, and tugged on one of her plaits. The child was already eagerly spooning up the stew, and when Valkyrie straightened and looked back at him, her pointed gaze made him uncomfortable.

Something about the entire exchange made Loki’s throat tighten. He clenched his fists and dug his nails into his palms until the feeling passed. When he finally relaxed his fingers, they were stained crimson with his blood.


	4. IV.

 

 

**IV.**

Loki was floating, yet his limbs were constricted, bound by metal that dug painfully into his skin. No, he was not floating after all; he was strung up like an animal, and someone – something – had a metal blade to his chest, carving into his skin. His blood felt hot as it slid down his chest in rivulets, he was lightheaded and sick. Pain is temporary, he reminded himself, and it would be over soon. He gritted his teeth, forced himself to endure, but then the Titan whispered – _“_ _Only a taste for now_ _,_ _”_ and suddenly Loki’s mind filled with a blinding white light and the shriek of death, his entire body engulfed with the rot of it, and he couldn’t _breathe_ –

_"Loki."_

Loki’s eyes flew open, barely registering the shadow hunched over him. In an instant, his dagger was pressed against the intruder’s throat; he was wide awake now, breath coming in short gasps. “What do you want?” he hissed.

The shadow held up its hands. “Loki, it’s me,” it said, and it took a few breathless moments for Loki to recognize the rumble of Thor’s voice.

He exhaled, lowering the dagger with a glare. “Are you mad?” he asked. “I could have killed you.”

“No you couldn’t have,” Thor said simply.

Loki scowled. He considered plunging the blade into Thor’s throat simply to prove a point. “What do you want?” he repeated.

Thor’s weight shifted, as if he were sitting on the edge of the bed. “You were screaming.”

“Was I?” Loki rubbed a hand over his eyes, feigned nonchalance. “Sorry to have disturbed your beauty rest.”

He didn’t have to see Thor to feel the look he gave him. “I was worried.”

“Well, you needn’t burden yourself.” Loki pulled himself into a sitting position, used his mind to flood the room with light, and Thor came into focus. He looked wide awake. It annoyed Loki, inexplicably. “As you can see, I’m perfectly fine.”

“And I’ve still got two eyes,” Thor replied, leaving Loki’s bed. The quarters were cramped, made to feel even more so with Thor’s imposing figure. Thor dropped down into the chair, leaning forward so his elbows rested on his knees. He stared at Loki as if he were something to be studied and, despite himself, Loki found he could not stare back. He leaned against the headboard.

“What?” he demanded.

“This isn’t the first time I’ve heard you,” Thor answered.

Loki flushed, looking away. He would have to use a spell to cloak his quarters and hide the sound. Careless of him to not have already done it; he was slipping. “It is nothing.”

“ _N_ _othing_ doesn’t sound like that.”

Loki did not want to have this conversation. He did not want to have _any_ conversation, but especially not this one. Who did Thor think he was, to ignore him for days and then burst in and lay claim to Loki’s fears?

He scowled at his brother. A moment later, he was clad in his usual attire, and got to his feet. Clearly, he would be getting no more sleep tonight. “I have things to do,” he said, and moved toward the door.

Thor reached out and caught Loki’s wrist, the contact taking Loki by surprise. He jerked back as if Thor’s touch burned.

“You don’t have things to do,” Thor countered. “You’ve been keeping yourself busy with the most tedious of tasks, which I know you hate, and there is nothing left to do. Are you really that desperate to avoid me?”

“If it means not having this conversation? Yes.”

Thor let out an irritated huff. “Val spoke to me. I know she spoke to you, too. She raised a good point. We’ve lost so much, Loki. I’m tired of this quarrel.”

Well. If _Thor_ was tired of it. “So it’s _Val_ now, is it?” Loki smirked. “It certainly didn’t take you long to move on from your Jane Foster.”

A muscle in Thor’s jaw moved. “I won’t let you goad me into another argument,” he replied. “Val is a friend, that’s all.”

Loki scoffed, folding his arms. “She’s a drunkard who would do good to mind her own business.”

“You’re just avoiding the fact that she’s _right._ ” Thor leaned back in the chair. “I can’t continue like this, Loki. It’s always one step forward and three steps back with us. It’s exhausting.”

A sarcastic retort was on the tip of Loki’s tongue, but he swallowed it back. He looked at Thor for a long moment, and then sighed, sinking down onto the edge of his bed. “You’re right.”

Thor blinked. “What?”

“For Norns’ sake. I said you’re right.” Loki flashed an irritated look at his brother, but it was not half as annoyed as it could have been. “We are going in circles, and it is tiring.”

“Then let’s stop. Neither of us can change the past, Loki, but we can stop giving it so much power over our future.”

“It’s that simple, is it.” Loki let out a laugh, harsh and humorless. “That’s the problem, Thor. You look at everything in black and white, when the reality is so gray. You have only ever seen what you wanted to see, not the whole picture. Now you expect to just cover it up and pretend it away, as if that will make us brothers again.”

“We never _stopped_ being brothers,” Thor said, running a frustrated hand over his short hair. “I never stopped considering you my brother, Loki. And I don’t think that we should just cover up the past. I only meant to say that we can stop … letting it rule us so completely.”

“I wish it were that simple,” Loki admitted. But it was not. Thor wanted to pave over the past, create a smooth surface on which they could build anew. What he did not seem to realize was that the rotten parts would always be underneath. They had to be dug out at the roots, else they’d continue to fester. 

“Tell me why you did it,” Thor said.

“Tell me why you left me,” Loki replied.

They looked at each other. This was the biggest root that had to be torn out. Perhaps, Thor had forgiven him for Midgard. Loki, during his false reign, had tempered the wild fury and betrayal he’d first felt when he learned the truth of his origins; it had cooled into something resembling acknowledgement, if not acceptance. Those things, perhaps they could move past.

But this was the part they got stuck on – Thor’s betrayal of Loki, leaving him to rot in the decay of Svartalfheim, and Loki’s betrayal of Thor, feigning his death to usurp the throne.

Thor broke the gaze first. He dropped his head into his hands, wide shoulders slumping with defeat. “I always meant to return,” he whispered. “It was not my intention to abandon you there.”

“Only to let my body keep until you could be bothered to fetch it,” Loki suggested, so bitter that the words physically ached to speak.

“Not like that.” Thor lifted his head, and Loki could see the lines of anguish on his face. So rugged, that face had become, in a relatively short period. Hundreds of years had prepared neither of them for the tumultuous eight they’d had since Thor was first banished to Earth and Loki learned the truth. He wondered how they could wear the weights of mere heartbeats so heavily.

“We were stranded,” Thor continued. “Jane and I. Malekith still had the Aether, time was running short … I didn’t know what else to do, Loki. I hid you away, and we found a portal to Earth. We defeated the threat there. When it was over, I returned for you, but you were gone. I thought …”

Thor dropped his eyes, unable to look at Loki. “I thought your soul had been taken to Valhalla, that there was no body to remain. What else could I believe? The burden of guilt for leaving you alone did not ease, but it was a little lighter to carry, believing you were with Mother.”

Loki did not realize he was holding his breath. When he did, he was slow to let it out. His throat felt tight and his eyes stung, and it was now he who had trouble looking at his brother. He knew he was not bound for Valhalla, certainly not now if he ever had been, but that Thor thought him there meant something, though he could not have said what.

“Now tell me,” Thor said, “whether it was all a ruse. _Why_ it was a ruse.”

“Fair is fair, I suppose,” Loki said dryly. He cleared his throat, looked down at his hands. Slender fingers, smaller and paler than Thor’s. They did not have brothers’ hands, they never had. He dragged his thumbnail back and forth along his left palm, as if to carve out a groove in the center.

“I _felt_ myself die,” he admitted. Thor leaned in closer, and Loki realized he was speaking under his breath. He cleared his throat again, as if to dislodge the truths that were stuck there. “Everything was dark and … and peaceful. For a little while, it was peaceful. Time, space … it meant nothing, and though I knew I would not go to Valhalla, I did not go to Hel, either. I simply _was_. And I wasn’t.”

“You really died, then,” Thor guessed.

“I suppose. But then … then I was back. Perhaps, the Norns willed it, for it wasn’t my time. I do not know. But I had a body again. A little worse for the wear, but …” he trailed off, not willing to go into how much pain he’d felt, how much fear had coursed through him when he’d realized he’d been returned. How much blood he’d already lost, sticky, coppery; he was drowning in it, should not have been alive for loss of it. And how deeply he felt Thor’s absence, when his last memories before the darkness were of Thor holding him, crying for him as he forgave Loki his sins.

He realized he’d fallen silent, and shook his head away from the memory. “I was able to repair myself with a spell – not perfectly, but well enough. But I had nowhere to go. I could not bear to return to my cell. I knew that if you knew I was alive, if you believed I’d fooled you …” He shook his head, let out a slight laugh. “Well, it seemed a good enough idea at the time.”

“You believed I’d be angry,” Thor said after a moment. “I would think it another betrayal. Yes?”

“Something like that.” Loki raised his gaze to meet Thor’s. “Would you have?”

“I don’t know,” Thor admitted. “Probably.”

“Well, then.” Loki waved a hand as if to say, _you see? I had no other_ _choice._

The room was quiet. Faintly, Loki could hear the hum of the ship’s engines.

“Is this why you have nightmares?” Thor finally asked.

Loki shook his head, a tired smile tugging at his lips. “No. But that is a conversation for another day, brother.” Another century, another millennia.

Thor looked as if he wanted to press the matter, but he would be wise to realize he would only get so many answers out of Loki at one time, and Loki had spilled enough. He was exhausted with the weight of it.

He’d always felt that if he’d kept his secrets close and guarded, he kept power over them. Now they were laid out in the open, and it made Loki feel vulnerability like a wound exposed to cold air.

Finally, Thor gave a slight nod. “So here we are,” he said. “I believe I understand now.”

“Then we are past our quarrel?” Loki asked. In that moment, he sounded very much like the younger of the two. He remembered their childhood, so long ago and out of reach; they would argue over this or that, each giving the other the silent treatment for so long that, by the time one of them cracked, they barely remembered what they’d argued about in the first place. Even then, they had been shrouded in lies, Loki thought, but they were better for not having known it. It was so much easier to reconcile.

Would things have been different, had Loki never discovered the truth? If they had not gone to Jotunheim that day, if Thor had never been banished … how much fate could he wish undone, simply by going back and making a different choice? Would he have been better off for it?

He’d asked himself that question countless times, and he knew that there was no answer – he did not believe he’d be better off ignorant, and even if he did, wishing could not unwind the thread of Fate. What was done was done, what would be would be.

Wishes were for children. Loki knew better.

“Yes,” Thor said, getting to his feet. “Come have a drink with me, brother. It’ll soothe the mind.”

Loki rolled his eyes, but he too got up. It was not as if he planned to return to sleep. “You’re picking up the Valkyrie’s bad habits,” he remarked, and then shot Thor a smirk. “Sorry. I meant _Val._ ”

“Yeah, yeah.” Thor shook his head, but he smiled faintly. Perhaps, they had barely scratched the surface of all they needed to face; perhaps, they were not finished going in circles. But for now, all was well.


	5. V.

 

 

**V.**

“We will be reaching a jump point soon,” Heimdall said, some weeks later. Thor’s council had gathered for a meeting, and Loki chose to sit in on this one, though he never participated much in these matters. He would never breathe it to another living soul, but in truth, he’d grown bored of politics. He sat in out of curiosity. They had established a comfortable, if temporary, routine on the ship, but once they were on Midgard, everything would change. “It will bring us to Midgard’s galaxy.”

Jump points, Loki thought, were a slight improvement in intergalactic travel but nowhere near as convenient as bridges or wormholes. They were fixed points in space, like shortcuts, allowing flight over distances that would otherwise take months or even years. If they were nearing a point, then their journey was coming to a close. Once in Midgard’s galaxy, it would only be a matter of weeks until they reached Earth.  

Loki still had not decided if he would stay on Midgard for long, or even at all. On the one hand, he wanted to be with Thor. On the other hand, Midgard hated him. His actions were not forgotten, though he and Thor never talked about it. Loki avoided thinking much about it at all. He had not been himself, then – not truly. Worse, he had not even _realized_ he was not himself, so natural had his descent into madness felt.

The God of Trickery had been played for a fool. He’d used his Scepter to control the humans around him, never realizing that the Scepter was influencing him, as well. Every resentment, every flicker of rage, every yearning for power felt amplified beyond his control. It had felt _natural_ to him. He was single-minded to the point of obsession, entitled to rule without care of the lives he took to get there.

It was only after he’d been returned to Asgard and imprisoned, isolated with his thoughts and far away from the Scepter, that he began to put the pieces together of what had truly happened.

Yet, it was not a defense.

The Titan had molded his mind and the Scepter had influenced his actions, but neither had placed anything in his head that Loki had not already possessed. His emotions were more extreme, perhaps, but they were still his. And though he’d had enough time to admit – even if only to himself – that his actions had been wrong, he did not truly feel _remorse_. Not the way Thor wanted him to, not the way he should have.

There was regret, certainly. Regret for falling from the bridge and falling into the Titan’s possession, regret for making a deal he could not possibly expect to keep. Regret for the moment – one, solitary moment – on the roof of Stark Tower, when Thor demanded he look at the destruction around him. _It’s too late to stop it,_ Loki had said.

 _We can. Together,_ Thor had implored him. And for one moment, Loki was so tempted that it physically hurt.

He’d stabbed Thor for making Loki bleed sentiment. That moment of clarity was over before it began, and yet it was the clearest point of regret Loki remembered later, among the muddled memories of battle.

But the humans?

It had been war, and war was cruelest to the weak. The humans’ own weaknesses left them vulnerable, and they were so primitive that they did not even realize it. Not until Loki had arrived could they comprehend a threat such as the Chitauri. People had died, but people always died. Their shortcomings were not Loki’s fault. And human lives were so short – what did it matter if they lived twenty or thirty years instead of eighty or ninety? Perhaps, to the humans, it felt a waste to extinguish a flame that already burned so swiftly. Loki did not see it that way, but he could acknowledge that his perception was skewed.

Loki’s head was throbbing. He avoided thinking about Midgard because it was not worth the wormhole his thoughts would dive down. Justifying his actions on Earth, no matter how logical they seemed, always left him feeling slightly ill. It was too close to the Sanctuary, his mind too tightly bound to everything that had happened before. He wanted nothing more to do with it. He’d had no intention of ever returning to Midgard, but recent events had forced his hand. Now, he had to decide how to play it.

“Yes,” Thor was saying. Loki forced himself to pay attention. “Once we get there, our best bet is America. Tony Stark has established the Avengers in New York. The land is plentiful away from the city. Stark has constructed a compound to train new recruits, and I am sure we could establish ourselves near there.”

“You want to rebuild Asgard in the Avengers’ backyard?” Valkyrie, who was leaning her chair back on its hind legs, made a face. Thor must have filled her in on his human friends. “Shall we all be superheroes together?”

 _That_ prospect alone was enough to send Loki to the nearest escape pod.

“No. I mean, unless you want to.” Thor grinned at her. “But it would be better to settle where we have friends, would it not?”

“Where _you_ have friends,” Loki pointed out. “But I doubt even your Avenger friends will be amenable to two thousand refugees and a war criminal.”

“Loki may be right.” Heimdall’s voice was as calm and even as ever, but the words jolted Loki just the same. He could live four thousand more years, he thought, and never hear those words again.

He glanced at the Gatekeeper, whose golden eyes were fixed at some far off point, seeing what the rest of them could not. “There is a rift between Tony Stark and his allies,” he went on. “They have gone their separate ways – for now.”

Thor’s brow furrowed. “What kind of rift?”

“Can you see Nat?” Bruce added. “Uh, Natasha. Romanoff.”

Heimdall was quiet for a moment. “Natasha Romanoff is with Steve Rogers in a place called Wakanda, far away from New York. They are fugitives.”

“ _Fugitives_?” Bruce and Thor exchanged a look, and then Thor met Loki’s gaze. Loki lifted his hands. Whatever was happening on Midgard, he had nothing to do with it.

Again, Heimdall was quiet, searching not just across space but across time, his features tight with concentration. “Sokovia,” he finally said, and looked at Thor, as if that name was supposed to mean something. “There is great unrest over the Avengers’ involvement there, and a belief that death and destruction follow Earth’s warriors. The American government wishes to bind them by law, but not all of your friends are in agreement that it is the right thing to do. They are divided.”

“We helped people in Sokovia!” Thor looked deeply offended. “We saved lives. Ultron would have destroyed Earth - ”

“Wait, what kind of law?” Bruce interrupted. “I mean, I know that since S.H.I.E.L.D. fell, we don’t exactly have any particular jurisdiction, but it’s not like we’re vigilantes. Is this coming from the President, maybe?”

Loki’s eyebrows went up. S.H.I.E.L.D. had fallen? That was interesting.

“I do not know,” Heimdall said.

“The President of what?” Valkyrie asked. “Of Midgard?”

“Midgard – uh, Earth – doesn’t have a President,” Bruce told her. “Or one government. There are different governments for different countries, and they don’t all work the same way.”  

“Sounds chaotic,” she remarked. She looked completely unbothered, despite the growing anxiety from both Thor and Bruce.

“Not really. We aren’t big on the whole one world government type of thing.” Bruce shot Loki a pointed look.

Heimdall cleared his throat. “I suggest we come up with an alternative course,” he said. “In case this New York is not a feasible option.”

They all looked at Thor, whose brow furrowed. “We don’t know the whole story,” he finally said. “If there is strife toward the Avengers, then perhaps New York isn’t the best place, though I still believe Stark would be amenable to our plight.” He drummed his fingertips against the table, and then his shoulders slumped. “I don’t know where else to go,” he admitted.  

“I hear Canada’s nice this time of year,” Bruce suggested with a grin. “If you don’t mind moose and maple syrup.”

They all looked at him blankly.

“Because Canada is hospitable to a - ” Bruce shook his head. “Nevermind. I guess you have to be from, you know, Earth.” He paused. “I can’t believe that sentence just came out of my mouth,” he added, partly under his breath.

This was getting them nowhere. Loki cleared his throat. “We would need a place that is not largely populated already. There are many regions on Midgard - in America, certainly - but I thought Norway.”

He did not know anything about Norway, of course. But he could still see it in his mind’s eye. Norway was the place with a roaring sea that stretched into forever, with lush green fields and a breeze that smelled of rich soil and birch branches.

_Remember this place. Home._

Thor met Loki’s gaze. “Yes,” he said, so quietly they almost didn’t hear him. “Norway would be quite nice.”

“Kind of poetic,” Bruce remarked. “It’s where the myths originated. If Norway isn’t an option, we could look into other Scandinavian countries – you know, Denmark, Iceland.”  

“Rebuilding from the roots,” Loki murmured.

“All right. We have a plan of action, then.” Thor cleared his throat, looking more confident than he had a moment ago. Loki felt a flicker of sympathy for his brother. He was clearly overwhelmed, and clearly not wanting to show it. “Banner, obviously you know more about Earth’s governments than any of us. Who would we need to contact in Norway?”

“Uh, I think there’s a Prime Minister,” Bruce said after a moment. “Regardless, I’m sure wherever we go, there’s going to be a lot of red tape. Our first contact, either way, should be Fury or Stark. They can help us navigate it, if nothing else.”

“Red tape?” Valkyrie asked. “Is that some sort of Earth-ism?”

Bruce opened his mouth, but Loki cut him off. “He means rules and regulations. Honestly, if we’re going to have to stop to explain every _Earth-ism_ to you, we’ll never get done here.”

“Excuse me,” Valkyrie shot back. “Not all of us have tried to invade Midgard recently, so I apologize for not being caught up on all the lingo.”

Loki glared at Thor. “Is there anything you’ve _not_ told her?”

“It’s not exactly a secret, Loki.” Thor folded his arms. “Can we get back to the issue at hand? As soon as we are close enough, we’ll need to send a contact to Earth. I don’t think they’d take kindly to us just appearing out of nowhere.”  

“I could probably come up with a way to send a message,” Bruce said thoughtfully. “It’ll be a challenge, but it shouldn’t be impossible. There’s a transceiver on board, right? If I can utilize the photons needed to transmit the data, and if we can get close enough within range, then we could at least send out a signal to the ISS or NASA.”

“Do you need explanations for those terms, too?” Loki murmured under his breath to the Valkyrie. She responded by kicking him in the shin. Thor shot both of them an irritated look.

“Okay. Well, you’re in charge of that, then. Just keep me posted,” he said to Banner. “In the meantime, Val, how is our fuel supply?”

“Decent, but that depends on how far away the jump point is.” Valkyrie looked at Heimdall, who gave her the approximate distance. She sucked air between her teeth. “We may not have enough.” She stood and crossed over to the large window that overlooked the stars beyond, frowning before she lifted a hand. “That constellation there. If I’m not mistaken, it’s part of the Anurdha system.”

 “You’re not mistaken,” said Heimdall.

“Our course will take us right by it,” she went on. “There’s a planet called Deaphus in that system. It’s small but friendly. I’ve stopped there before. We have enough fuel to get there, and they will be willing to trade with us for supplies.”

“You’re certain?” Loki asked.

“I wouldn’t suggest it if I wasn’t.”

Heimdall was quiet, focusing, and then he spoke. “Deaphus will bring us close to the Otherworld. If we make our way to Heliopolis, we can access a bridge – similar to Bifrost - that would take us directly to Earth. We wouldn’t need the jump point, in that case.”

“Anything that makes this trip shorter,” Bruce remarked.

Thor and Loki shared another look. Loki could practically see the wheels turning in his brother’s head, trying to determine whether the jump point or the bridge would be the better course. “A shorter trip would be preferable,” Thor finally said, “but it would leave us less time to prepare Earth for our arrival. If the situation with the Avengers and the government is dire, we might need that extra warning time before we drop out of the sky.”

“We need fuel, either way,” Loki reminded him. “Let’s at least go to Deaphus. We can figure out the rest of our journey from there.”

A look of relief spread over Thor’s face. He nodded his agreement. “A good plan. We’ll set course for Deaphus.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm by no means an expert in space travel, so the more technical points of their journey are pulled from various MCU sources that mention how they get around up there. Please suspend your disbelief and pretend this is how it works. :P Also, the Anurdha system and the planet Deaphus are made up by me for the story, but Heliopolis and Otherworld are taken from the Marvel Comics and will feature later on in the story.


	6. VI.

 

 

**VI.**

When the meeting adjourned, they went their separate ways. Heimdall was almost always at the helm, and he disappeared to navigate the new course, while Bruce wandered off in search of whatever he could find to get his communications project up and running. Thor expressed a desire to go to the healing center to check on its patients as well as its supplies. He wanted to create an inventory of what they had, what they needed, and what could be spared for trade. Valkyrie went to the kitchen to compile a similar list.

As for Loki, he needed to be away from the lot of them. There was a persistent throbbing behind his eyes and he wished to be alone, but he did not like being in his tiny quarters. He went down to the cargo bay instead, which was the quietest place on the ship. It encompassed most of the lowest level, and normally it would have been filled with packages and boxes of Sakaaran goods for trade, but it was mostly empty now, only a few stray crates scattered about.

It was far below what Loki would normally consider a tolerable place to spend his time, but it was the best he could do under the circumstances.

Loki needed to think. He paced around the bay for awhile, trying to ignore his headache as he replayed the meeting again. Jumping to Earth from Heliopolis was their best option, if they wanted to get there quickly. And by the time they got to Deaphus, Loki was certain that they would. None of them wanted to be on the ship longer than they had to be, himself included. But if their journey was to be cut short, then Loki would need a plan sooner rather than later.

He had not said so to the others, but he was familiar with the Otherworld and knew of the bridge Heimdall spoke about. He’d always known there were worlds beyond the Nine Realms, from stories Frigga had told them when they were young and books he’d explored on his own. His curiosity was insatiable, and he remembered devouring books like apples, especially in his youth. Heliopolis, the center of Otherworld, was a celestial city, very similar to Asgard in terms of physicality and population. They called their golden bridge the Path of the Gods.

At least Asgard had not been so pretentious in naming the rainbow bridge, Loki thought as he sat down on a crate, leaning against the wall.

It was not like him to feel so unprepared, so out of practice. Normally, not only would he have already mapped out his plan but he would have set it in motion, planting the seeds and moving his variables to where they needed to be. He’d ensure a few alternatives in case anything was to go wrong, and his first priority would be his own survival and comfort.

Now, his mind felt dull, as if there was an impenetrable wall between his rationality and his emotions.

It was sentiment, he thought. His desire to be with Thor was addling his brain. He was preoccupied with the banality of manifests and politics, of watching Thor and offering support when it seemed his brother just might buckle under the weight of the world he now carried on his shoulders. He was helping Thor, but he was also _languishing,_ and he was losing himself in the process.

Who was he if not the manipulator, the trickster? What could he lay claim to, if not intellect and foresight?

_Thor would never do the same for you._

The thought pierced him like a shard of ice in the gut, causing a sharp intake of breath. He did not know where it had come from, but the animosity was overwhelming. Loki was giving all of himself to Thor – to Thor’s _reign_ – but if the tables were turned, would Thor do the same? Had Thor ever put Loki ahead of battle and glory?

Loki could not recall.

It was a precarious train of thought, Loki knew. He’d laid rest to his demons simply by pushing them down into some deep part of himself where they could cause no harm, but if he began to dredge them up again, he knew the old resentments would begin to consume him. They were the roots Loki and Thor had not cut out. It was easier when Thor was away, when Loki was not faced with the day to day reminder of how much energy he spent simply trying to keep up, knowing it was fruitless.

Loki needed to collect himself. He needed to remember who he was, what he was capable of.

His jaw felt tight. He lifted a hand, made a swift waving motion and immediately, the bright, brilliant blue Tesseract was hovering in the space just above his palm. His secret weapon, his ace in the hole. It was truly a thing of beauty, that cube; such unlimited power, such potential.

It would be so easy for Loki to use it now. He could harness its energy to take him anywhere in the Universe he wished to go, and leave the lot of them squabbling amongst themselves over where to go and what to do. Certainly, he would not be missed. Midgard would not have a place for him. Like Asgard, like Valhalla, Loki simply did not fit.

Loki would not wait to be cast out, he decided. He would leave of his own volition.

He stared at the Tesseract, breathing in every flicker, every azure shimmer. It had not been his intent to take the cube. He had all but forgotten about it during the past four years, as he’d had no use for it. But in the Vault, as soon as he’d seen it, he’d known that he could not just leave it to be destroyed with Asgard, or to fall aimlessly into the Void for anyone – for the Titan – to find. It called to him, demanded to be taken, and though Loki told himself he was protecting both the Tesseract and the people, he did not deny that he had no intention of alerting Thor to its presence. He kept it tucked in his interdimensional pocket for safekeeping, wrapped in a cloaking spell, and it would stay there until he had use of it.

But not now. Loki sighed. He waved his hand again and the Tesseract vanished. He would travel with the refugees as far as Deaphus, he decided, and then he would take his leave. Wherever he ended up did not matter. Thor would be fine without him, and Loki would make his own way.

___

He lost track of time, alone with his thoughts. At some point, he must have drifted into a shallow, dreamless sleep, from which he was jolted when he heard two voices getting louder. His muscles felt stiff and his head throbbed. Loki yawned, rubbed a hand over his eyes, and listened to the voices. A moment later, he recognized the Valkyrie, along with a smaller voice, like a child.

Loki did not feel like explaining how the cargo bay served as his temporary sanctuary. He swiftly conjured a book and flipped it open to somewhere in the middle, so that by the time Valkyrie and her companion came into view, he was the picture of relaxed and unbothered, as if he’d been reading – minding his own business – for hours.

Valkyrie stopped at his feet, brow furrowed. “What are you doing here?”

Loki took his time in looking up from the page. “What does it look like?”

“It looks like you’re reading alone in the cargo hold, which means you’re probably up to something.”

“A person can’t just like a quiet place to read?”

“Not when that person is you,” Valkyrie replied.

Loki bit back a retort, choosing instead to focus his gaze on her small companion. It was the child she’d given her (his) stew to the night she’d spoken to him about Thor, the little girl with blonde plaits. She was hiding half behind Valkyrie’s leg, peering back at Loki curiously. “Hello,” Loki said to her. He glanced back up at the Valkyrie. “Collecting pets now?”

Valkyrie shrugged, brushing a hand over the girl’s blonde head. “This is Dagny,” she said. “She’s alone on the ship.”

“I see.” Loki’s gaze flicked over the girl again before he looked back at his book, uninterested. “And you were overcome with the desire to adopt? How maternal of you.”  

Valkyrie’s mouth turned down. “I’m just spending time with her. I came down to show Dagny where goods for trade are kept. She likes ships. Wants to be a pilot.”

“Well, far be it for me to intrude on your little field trip.” Loki closed his book and got to his feet. His legs tingled and a wave of dizziness struck him from having been sitting so long. “I’ll leave you to it.”

“Works for me.” Valkyrie’s gaze flicked over him. “You don’t look so good.”

Loki lifted an eyebrow. “I don’t insult your appearance.”

Her eyeroll was a bit excessive. “I just meant you look worn out. Are you eating?”

“Yes. Are you sober?”  

Valkyrie let out an irritated noise, clasping Dagny’s hand tightly as if she expected Loki to steal her away. “Would it kill you to be nice for two seconds out of your life?”

It just might. Loki moved around her without replying, getting about five feet away before the child’s small voice called out, “Wait!”

Frowning, Loki turned.

“You’re the prince, aren’t you?” Dagny asked. She had fully stepped out from behind the Valkyrie now and was blinking up at Loki with wide blue eyes. “The king’s brother?”

“I am not a prince,” Loki responded. Valkyrie snorted, but he ignored her. “But I am Thor’s brother, yes.”

“I saw a play about you,” Dagny said. “I thought you died.”

“I’ve come back to life,” Loki said dryly. He looked back at Valkyrie with annoyance. “Nice friend you have.”

“She’s just a child,” Valkyrie snapped. “Come, Dagny. Prince Lackey isn’t the friendly sort. Let’s go look at those secret compartments, yeah?”  

Dagny was still staring at him, but at Valkyrie’s words, she seemed to lose interest. “Yes,” she agreed. She slipped her hand from Valkyrie’s grasp and trotted forward, with Valkyrie on her heels. Neither looked at Loki again.


	7. VII.

 

 

**VII.**

He found Thor on the main deck where the temporary “throne” sat. Thor stood not far away from the window, arms folded, deep in conversation with a few men. Loki leaned against a wall, patiently, until Thor glanced up and caught his eye. A few moments later, he clapped one of the men on the shoulder and the group dispersed, giving Loki curious looks as they passed.

“Brother,” Thor greeted warmly. “Where’ve you been hiding? You disappeared after the meeting.”

Loki’s shoulders rose and fell. “Here and there. Everything all right?”

Thor nodded. He dropped down into the chair, letting out a loud sigh as he rubbed his hands over his face. He seemed to forget about the eye patch, and muttered a curse when his palm slid over it, digging into the empty space beneath.

“Does it still hurt?” Loki asked, despite himself. Thor looked at him, and Loki gestured a bit awkwardly. “You should see one of the healers.”

“It’s fine.” Thor dropped his hands. It was typical of him to brush off his own discomfort, to pretend he really was as invincible as he seemed. But then, Loki tended to be the same way – not to appear invincible, necessarily, but to cloak his vulnerabilities behind a mask of indifference. Thor hid his pain to protect other people; Loki hid his to protect himself.

Loki decided to let the matter go, in favor of a more pressing concern. He did not particularly want to have this conversation, but he needed to tell Thor his plans now, lest Thor become too attached to whatever partnership they had forged on this little journey. “Brother,” he began, “I thought … I was thinking I would take my leave at Heliopolis. Not continue on to Earth.”

Thor looked up, genuinely surprised. Dismay crossed his face like a shadow. “What?”

“You and I both know there’s no place for me there,” Loki reminded him. “Not after what I did in New York. The governments will not be keen to overlook that.”

“You are my brother,” Thor said, “and I am king. They will - ”

“You are a king without a kingdom, Thor,” Loki cut him off.  Thor looked stricken. “That’s what the Midgardians will see,” he continued, a little more gently. “You must admit, it’s not as if we are humans seeking refuge within another country’s borders. We are not of Earth, and they are so far behind that it’s not unreasonable to assume we are a threat.”

“They know Asgard has no quarrel with them,” Thor protested, “and that Earth has always been under my protection.”

“Always?” Loki lifted a brow. “Ten years ago, they didn’t even know we existed.”

Thor clenched his jaw. Despite his tendency to pretend physical injuries did not ail him, he’d never been good at shielding his emotions. Loki could plainly see the battle waging across his features – his need to keep Loki close, whatever the cost, wrestling with the logic of Loki’s argument against it. Loki wondered if Thor had not truly considered this before, or if he’d simply avoided thinking about it. If he was to be king, he needed to rule with reason, not sentiment; the role of king demanded a certain objectivity that Thor lacked. Loki could not help but feel slightly annoyed at that.

But he did not voice this. Thor would assume Loki meant to undermine him, and the last thing they needed was another rift.

“I know,” Thor finally said. He pushed his hands through his hair as if he’d forgotten it wasn’t there anymore. “I recognize that Earth is new to the concept of other worlds and that we would have to make concessions if this is going to work. But you can’t be one of those concessions, Loki. So perhaps we must look to rebuild elsewhere.”

“Where?” Loki challenged. “I am one person against two thousand, brother. These people are not warriors. They’re merchants, carpenters, _farmers_ for Norns’ sake. Midgard is the only Realm among the Nine that is hard to access by those who would mean Asgard harm, and the humans themselves would pose no threat. It is the logical choice.”

“I know,” Thor said again. “Do you think I’ve not considered this? I realize that the situation is precarious and that the people would not simply turn a blind eye to what happened in New York. But there are ways around it, Loki. That’s the point of negotiation.”

“Then am I to be a prisoner?” Loki challenged. “Granted refuge on the condition that I serve a sentence, or give up my magic, or submit to being watched constantly like an animal? I won’t do it, brother.”

Thor let out a sound that was somewhere between a growl and a sigh. “And I won’t do _this_. Not without you.” He clasped his hands together so tightly that his knuckles went white. A crackle of electricity danced over his skin, but he didn’t seem to notice. “I cannot lose what I have left, Loki. You must understand that.”

This was not going the way that Loki had planned. He looked warily at Thor’s hands. It was one thing for Thor’s emotions to cause a thunderstorm or a bolt of lightning in the middle of an open field or the heat of battle, but here on the ship, it would be disastrous.

Before Loki could come up with a response that would ease his brother without deferring to his argument, they heard Bruce call out, “Hey, Thor!” He was jogging up the hall toward the deck. Thor slowly exhaled a breath, loosening his fingers as the electricity faded from sight.

“We’re not done discussing this,” Thor told Loki, and then pasted a smile on his face as he got up to greet Bruce. “What’s wrong, Banner?”

“Nothing’s wrong, exactly.” Bruce reached where they stood, giving Loki an uneasy look before focusing his attention on Thor. Sometimes, Bruce handled Loki with a distanced cynicism, and other times, he clearly felt threatened simply by Loki’s presence. Aside from Thor, Bruce was the only witness to the destruction Loki had wrought in New York, so perhaps Loki had earned the ire, but that did not make it any less irritating.

Besides, of the two of them, Loki was the only one to have _not_ beat the other to a pulp.

“I’ve been working on the transceiver,” Bruce continued, “so that we can send our signal to Earth, but it might be more complicated than I originally thought.”

“Why? What’s the problem?” Thor asked.

“I imagine Earth’s archaic technology is the problem,” Loki guessed. Communications were easy enough among worlds with similar technology to Asgard’s, or at least a rudimentary grasp of the cosmos, but Earth was so far behind, it was laughable. _I could have brought so much progress in my reign._

Bruce was giving Loki another look. “It’s not archaic,” he snapped. His shoulders slumped. “But you’re right. Even with modifications, the transceiver won’t work on a signal with the right frequency to match NASA’s tech. Now, I was thinking …”

Loki tuned him out. He nodded to Thor and took his leave, brow furrowed as he replayed that thought in his head. _How much progress you could have brought, indeed. But you failed, did you not? You were never worthy of the Tesseract’s power._

His head was pounding, he realized. He stopped walking and brought his fingers up to massage his temples. The headache had returned out of nowhere, and yet, the prickling of his skin and the way his pulse sped up whispered to him that it wasn’t out of nowhere at all.

These were not his thoughts. Someone was _in_ there, in his mind.

The Other was dead, he reminded himself. He was far from the Titan’s grasp. His musings were the result of a bored and frustrated mind, nothing more. Loki drew in a breath and let it out again, slowly but surely.

_Are you not dead, too?_

“No,” he murmured. He squeezed his eyes shut, focusing all of his attention on pushing the thoughts out. Was it not enough that they had claimed his sleep? Did they also intend to drive him mad in his waking hours? There was a roaring sound which grew louder and louder until suddenly, abruptly, it stopped.

Loki opened his eyes. Thor was there, saying something that Loki couldn’t quite make out. Everything felt muffled, as if he were hearing and seeing from the opposite end of a long tunnel. He blinked, suddenly aware of the weight of Thor’s hand on his shoulder, and then things came into focus. The muffled sensation faded, and he found himself standing not far away from the deck, Bruce and a few passengers looking at him while Thor tried to get his attention.

“I’m fine,” Loki said, lowering his hands from his head. “Just a spell of dizziness.”

“You don’t look well, Loki,” Thor observed, peering at Loki’s face. “I think you need to get some rest.”

Loki nodded slowly. He didn’t relish in returning to his quarters, or to sleep, but he needed to get off of the deck, away from prying eyes. And he needed to get away from Thor’s concern. He did not deserve it, and Thor would agree, if he knew what Loki had been thinking.


	8. VIII.

 

**VIII.**

Deaphus was a teal sphere that was startlingly reminiscent of Midgard, although it was barely a fraction of Midgard’s size. The planet seemed to be mostly forests and fields, dotted with bodies of water that varied in size. The capital city, Kallais, was situated on the largest continent of land and as they descended into the atmosphere, Loki felt a strange twinge as he took it in.

It appeared to be early afternoon. Deaphus’s small star blazed an interesting shade of reddish yellow, which cast the sky in a hue of violet gold. Kallais was a sprawling landscape of brick buildings, some several stories tall and others only one or two levels. Some portions of the city rested on cliffs that overlooked the ocean while, in the distance, the buildings became more and more sparse until they faded into a range of low mountains, dotted with clusters of blue and green trees. Finally, situated on the highest cliffs lay a palace that looked nothing like Asgard’s yet was no less grand. It was separated from the rest of the city by a wide river, over which a vast bridge lay. The palace was not very tall, but it was large, an impressive compound of solid brick, huge windows, courtyards, and marble fountains.

The twinge continued to twist in Loki’s abdomen. Despite the beauty of the city and its palace, he felt a sudden longing for the towering golden city of Asgard. He did his best to push the feeling away, turning to survey the crowd of Asgardians as they pressed around the many windows on the ship, craning their necks for their first looks at civilization in weeks. Maybe it was the change of scenery, or simply relief at the opportunity to get off the ship, but the refugees seemed more animated than they’d been since the beginning of their journey. The rumble of voices ebbed and flowed, people pointing out various sights with awe and the occasional smile.

“There are worse places in the Universe,” Thor commented as he stepped up beside Loki, giving his brother a wry grin. “Sakaar, for instance.”

Loki shuddered at the reminder of the literal garbage heap they’d left behind. “Much worse places,” he agreed. “So what’s the plan?”

“Heimdall has sent a contact to their council,” Thor answered. “They’ve given us permission to land, of course, and are willing to negotiate for trade and possibly refuge for a time. Gives us a chance to stretch our legs, as it were.”

“How long do you propose we stay?”

“Just long enough to plot our next course of action. We’ll need to navigate the distance to Heliopolis from here. The more I think on it, I realize that the bridge is probably our best option. And,” he added with a sideways glance at Loki, “in the meantime, we’ll work on a plan for Earth, too. I have not forgotten our conversation.”

“Of course you haven’t,” Loki murmured, avoiding Thor’s gaze. His mind had not changed, but now was not the time to argue over it. “What sort of government are we facing here?”

Thor took his time answering, still studying Loki far more closely than Loki felt comfortable with. “A monarchy,” Thor said finally. “According to Val we’ll be dealing with the queen and her council. Supposedly, she’s more likely to be acquiescent than not.”

“I see.” Loki nodded his understanding. Before he could say anything else, Bruce Banner, who had been practically plastered against the main window on the deck and was still now slack-jawed, joined them. “I would pay good money,” Bruce said, “to have a camera with me. _Really_ good money. This is incredible.”

“What are you up to now?” Thor asked with a hint of amusement. “Four planets?”

“If you count Asgard,” Bruce agreed, “although the Hulk got to see more of it than I did.” He glanced out the window again. “Look at their sun. Nobody’s ever seen a red dwarf this close before. My next dissertation is practically writing itself at this point. Do you think the sky is always this color?”

Loki’s lips twisted in a smile that bordered on patronizing. “Sometimes I forget how primitive humanity is,” he remarked. “Your excitement is sort of endearing. One might even say _cute_.”

Thor shot him a warning glance.

“Yeah, it’s downright fuzzy,” Bruce replied, for once unbothered by Loki’s tone. He patted his pockets. “Add a computer to the things I’d pay money for right now. Hell, even a notebook would do.”

“I’m sure we can find you some parchment somewhere,” Thor reassured him. “Now, we’re going to need to determine how long negotiations might last and what our people can do in the meantime. I don’t want to confine them to the ship, but nor do we need people wandering off and getting lost.”

“Negotiations shouldn’t take too long.” Valkyrie seemed to materialize out of nowhere, and Loki felt a flash of annoyance that he hadn’t noticed her approach. He detested being sneaked up on. “The Queen will show sympathy for our plight. She’ll not want to drag out politics any longer than necessary.”

“You’ve dealt with her directly before, then?” Thor asked.

Valkyrie nodded a bit too emphatically. Loki noticed the bottle in her hand, but chose not to comment. “Only once. I found myself in a predicament and needed refuge. She entertained a brief audience with me when I arrived.”

“So you’ve met this queen one time, for a few minutes,” Loki clarified. “That’s hardly the established relationship you’ve implied.”

“I never implied anything,” she shot back. “I said Deaphus would be willing to help. And they are, aren’t they?”

Loki sighed, glancing back at Thor. “We’ll need to gather the people,” he said. “Let them know what’s happening. I realize the need to get off the ship is great, but we need to stress the importance of staying put until we know what our boundaries will be.”

“I agree,” Thor said. The ship suddenly jolted and, with a loud creak, rocked into place on the landing platform. The sudden sensation of being still, after so much time spent in motion, was more than a little jarring. Loki swayed slightly and grasped Thor’s arm to steady himself. Once he realized what he had done, he drew back but Thor, to his credit, said nothing. There was a whirring hum as the engines powered down and then, a few minutes later, Heimdall joined them on the deck.

It did not take long to assemble the people, as most of them were already gathered together to see out the windows. Thor stood at the center of the deck, facing them, flanked on either side by Loki, Bruce, Valkyrie, and Heimdall. What an odd little council they made, Loki thought. A disgraced former prince, a human, a fugitive Gatekeeper, and a drunken Valkyrie. He recalled when he and Thor, in their adolescent years, had sometimes been made to sit in on council meetings with Odin. Being taught the ways of government was part of their studies as princes, as ruling required an understanding of matters of state and the diplomacy to navigate them. Odin’s council was mostly men, mostly elder, all distinguished and stern. The parents of Volstagg and the father of Sif were among them. They all played different roles – delegates, legislators, commissioners – and Loki and Thor were expected to remember and differentiate between all of them.

Later, when he was masquerading as Odin, it was these lessons that gave him an ease with the inner workings of the council and aided his charade. None had suspected anything was amiss, which spoke either of Loki’s prowess or the council’s incompetence. He’d never quite decided on which.

It no longer mattered. None of the old council had survived Hela’s murderous reign. As Thor and Loki learned more and more details about what had transpired in their absence, the more they realized just how much had been lost. The council, the entire Einherjar, including their powerful commander, Tyr. Most of the nobles perished. Eir, the royal family’s private healer and Bjarte, the princes’ former tutor. Almost everyone Thor and Loki had known for their entire lives was gone. The wreckage of Asgard went far beyond merely the physical. When he thought of it in those terms, Loki felt a flicker of guilt for his need to leave Thor and what remained of their Realm. Thor had inherited a massive burden, and none of their lessons as children had included how to rebuild an entire kingdom from rubble.

For a few traitorous moments, Loki wondered if it wasn’t better if the remaining refugees simply scattered. They could all go their own ways, settle among the remaining eight Realms, and Asgard would be no more.

“Good people of Asgard,” Thor was saying. His powerful voice boomed throughout the hall, over a sea of rapt faces gazing with reverence at their king. “We have reached the city of Kallais. Negotiations will commence shortly for supplies and refuge. We are hoping to be able to take residence here for a brief time before continuing our journey to Midgard.” He paused, his one eye flickering over the crowded mass. To the common Asgardian, Loki had to admit that Thor looked every inch a king. His somber yet open expression, the eye patch which reflected the regality of Odin, the determined set of his shoulders. He was a beacon of reassurance; the people had lost everything, but they still had Thor.

He was everything Loki was not.

“I know you are tired,” Thor went on after a moment. His voice softened. “Our journey has been long, and will be longer still. You have been cooped up on this ship for weeks, and certainly crave the freedom to roam outdoors. I ask, however, that you be patient just a little while longer. Until we have a plan, we do not want to lose track of our people. We will do our best to make quick work of the politics.”

Thor continued to outline their plan and what they could expect from their time on Deaphus, but Loki tuned him out. He pressed his thumbnail into his palm. He envied Thor’s regality, but he did not envy Thor’s work. These jealous resentments were springing up more frequently than he would like; they threw him back into his youth, into the shadow he’d so long occupied until it had driven him to literal madness. He remembered telling Thor once, ages ago, that he’d never wanted the throne – he’d only wanted to be Thor’s equal. What he knew now that he hadn’t then was that being equal to Thor was as useless a goal as lifting Mjolnir. It was pointless to wish for what he could never have, and he’d thought he’d learned well enough to no longer try.

Yet the thoughts still plagued him, sneaking up on him when his guard was down only to strike with the swiftness of an unseen dagger to the gut. Loki wished to be rid of them, but he did not know how. This weakness frustrated him. He did his best to rid his mind of this train of thought. He glanced at the Valkyrie, who was finishing off the bottle of whatever it was she’d decided to drink today. For the first time, Loki wished it was as easy for him as it seemed to be for her to simply drown her worries in drink. He needed to keep his wits about him, but he was not ignorant of the benefits inebriation brought. He’d seen inside the Valkyrie’s mind and knew the demons she was running from; it didn’t stop him from judging her vices, but he had to admit she’d found a way to make it through each day, and that was more than he had.

She seemed to feel his gaze on him and looked over, raising her eyebrows. Loki looked away, back out at the people. They were applauding, Loki realized. Thor must have finished his speech. Loki drew in a breath and then let it out again, arranging his face into a neutral mask. It was time to get out of his own head.


	9. IX.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tl;dr: We're just gonna hang out on Deaphus for awhile. Because reasons.

 

**IX.**

“I think it would be unwise to leave the people unprotected,” Heimdall said as they stood by the open doors, landing ramp lowered. “I’d prefer to stay here while you meet the council, if I may.”

Thor considered. “Since we’ve been invited to negotiate, I doubt we’re under threat of attack,” he said, “but I’d rather not take chances. Not after …” He waved a hand slightly, indicating everything that had just happened on Asgard. “Thank you, Heimdall.”

“Of course.” Heimdall gave a nod and then, still clutching the Bifrost sword, he headed back toward the main deck to wait with the people. He probably slept with that sword, Loki thought.

The landing platform was just to the side of the palace entry, with a walkway that led them straight onto the bridge. The ground felt comfortingly solid under their feet, and Loki paused for a moment to take a breath. The air smelled like peaches.

“I didn’t expect it to be so cold,” Bruce remarked. He was visibly shivering, hugging his arms close to his chest. His Midgardian clothing did not offer much protection against the sudden drop in temperature outside the ship. “I should have known. That star isn’t giving off nearly enough heat.”

“Are you going to be okay?” Thor asked. He stopped walking and turned to Bruce. “You’re not going to drop dead or anything, right?”

“Probably not.”

“ _Probably_?”

Bruce shrugged. “That star burns about three-fourths as hot as Earth’s sun. It seems like the atmosphere is thick enough to circulate the heat evenly, but not at a temperature that’s sustainable, long-term, to human life. That said, as long as we aren’t here for, like, _months_ , I should be okay.”

“Human biology,” Valkyrie remarked with a shake of her head. “I bet your green friend would fare better.”

“Possibly, but I’d rather not find out,” Bruce replied.

Thor still looked doubtful, but he accepted Bruce’s explanation. “Well, if you feel like you’re going to die, just let me know and I’ll get you back to the ship,” he said dryly. He fell back into step. Loki would have remarked on the inconvenience of dealing with the frailty of the human body, on top of everything else, but they were approaching the main palace entrance and it would not do to be bickering like schoolchildren when they met the queen’s council.

Stationed along the path to the palace’s entrance stood armored guards who stood straight-backed and still, reminding Loki of the Einherjar. Beyond them, a young woman approached, flanked on either side by a man and a woman. Loki guessed she was the queen based on the way she held herself; she was a bit more rigidly poised than the rest, carrying herself with an air of graceful authority that reminded Loki of Frigga. A group of maybe five more people followed closely behind. They all appeared humanoid. Age was always an impossible thing to tell, since the aging process could be so different depending on the species, but the queen seemed to be close to Loki and Thor’s physical age, along with the woman and man beside her; the others looked quite a bit older, though not quite elderly.

The queen wore a black and gold dress with long sleeves and a full skirt, which rustled against the ground as she walked; her hair, long and brown, was held back at the top with a pearl-edged hairpiece. When the two groups got to one another, the queen stepped forward first, extending one of her slim hands. Thor grasped it easily.

“Welcome to Kallais,” she said with a warm smile. “I am Briony, queen of Deaphus.”

“I’m Thor, son of Odin and king of Asgard. I want to thank you for your willingness to meet with us.”

“Of course. I was sorry to learn of Asgard’s fate.” Briony’s gaze flicked over them before returning to rest on Thor. “Though we are beyond the Nine Realms, we have always had good relations with your kingdom.”

“You have had a relationship with Odin, then?” Thor asked.

Briony nodded. “Yes. I am sorry, as well, to know he has passed. He was a benevolent man who came to our aid when we needed it. I am only happy to return the favor now.”

Loki had to wonder the circumstances of their alliance with Asgard, as Deaphus was not a world he was familiar with, either in his own learnings or his time on the throne. Thor may or may not have been thinking the same thing, because he smiled his princely smile – wide and handsome yet rehearsed, not reaching his eyes. “You’re most generous,” was all he said. He gestured toward Loki. “Allow me to introduce Loki of Asgard, my brother and member of my council, along with Bruce Banner and Valkyrie of Asgard.”

It occurred to Loki, not for the first time, that none of them actually knew the Valkyrie’s real name. If Briony recognized the title for what it was, she did not show it. She simply nodded and smiled at each of them in turn before introducing her own group. The tall man to her left was called Lord Bexley, and the woman to her right Lady Ailidh. “My top advisors and closest friends,” Briony stated.

“Very pleased to know you.” Thor had visibly relaxed, pleased that the queen and her people were amicable.

“And you as well. Please, let’s take our conversation inside,” Briony said, gesturing at the palace behind her. “I feel we’ll have much to discuss.”

____

The palace represented a people who had a fair amount of wealth, though it was nowhere near as grand as the Asgardian palace had been. The rooms were expansive, wide open with high ceilings, giving the illusion that the people who walked the halls were very small. The palace did not appear to be lit by electricity; rather, intricate candelabras hung from the ceilings, with torches lining the heavy brick walls. The hallway that they had to walk through to get to the throne room was lined with enormous portraits of past rulers, framed in gold. Each ruler, in his or her portrait, wore heavy furs and the same jewel-encrusted crown.

“How Elizabethan,” Bruce murmured under his breath.

Loki shot him a curious look, making a mental note to ask him what he meant later. They passed through the throne room, which had ample space for the court to gather or for the queen to receive guests; the throne itself was set back from the rest of the room, a palatial chair cushioned in royal blue. They bypassed it and were led into an adjacent room, where a long, solid wood table sat. There was a portrait of a dark haired man hanging on the wall at the head of the table, right above the queen’s seat.

“My father,” Briony said, catching Loki gazing at it. “He passed when I was still young. But he was a respected king, and the biggest advocate for peace this side of the galaxy.”

Loki smiled politely. “Have you been at peace many years?”

“Yes. My father used to say that true heroics were fought not on the battlefield but in the king’s chambers, where the weapons of choice were honor and diplomacy, and that war was a reflection of failure.” Briony smiled back. “Of course, conflict cannot always be avoided. Deaphus has its enemies, as does any other world, but we keep them at bay as best as we can.”

“Your father sounds like mine,” said Thor, whom Loki hadn’t been aware was listening. “He always said a good king never seeks war, but must always be ready for it.”

“A wise man, indeed.” Briony gestured toward the table. “Please, sit down.”

They took their seats around the table. Loki noticed that the older council members, whose names he did not remember, did not join them; only Briony, Bexley, and Ailidh represented Deaphus. A few servants that Loki had not noticed before appeared, placing delicate water glasses before each of them. Each glass was filled to the brim, a crystal pitcher in the center of the table. Valkyrie slipped a tiny bottle from her pocket, which she inconspicuously tipped into her glass. When she looked up and caught Loki’s gaze, she had the grace to look a bit embarrassed before she pointedly looked away. Loki felt the corners of his mouth twitch in something like amusement.

“So,” Briony began, after assuring that they were all comfortable, “let’s begin with your journey. How long have you been traveling?”

“About two months, the closest we can figure,” Thor answered. “Our ship is a foreign vessel without timekeepers, so we may not be measuring accurately.”

“And your ship is fortified?”

“With food, yes. But our medical supplies are running low, and we haven’t the fuel to complete our journey to Midgard.” Thor clasped his hands together. “There is a jump point not far, but we would not have made it on the amount of fuel we have. After the jump point, Midgard is further still.” He did not mention the golden bridge at Heliopolis.

“We do not have much to spare,” Valkyrie spoke up, “but we will trade with you what we can.”

Lord Bexley cleared his throat. He was a slight man, with pale hair and a moustache, that reminded Loki of Fandral. It was not a pleasant association. “We do not wish to take from you what you cannot spare,” he said. “In fact, what we seek is not material, exactly.”  

Thor tilted his head. “Is that so?”

“Asgard is well known even beyond the Nine Realms,” Lady Ailidh said. Her eyes were the color of peonies. “Your kingdom is revered not only as a Protector, but for your immense technological and medical advancements. Unfortunately, we on Deaphus are not as advanced as you are.”

“So you want technology,” Loki finished.

“In a manner of speaking,” Briony confirmed. She, Bexley, and Ailidh exchanged a glance that, while brief, set Loki’s nerves on edge. If there were ulterior motives at play, better to figure them out now. He and Thor exchanged a glance of their own, but neither spoke just yet.  Briony leaned forward a bit, her expression turning earnest. “I must admit, our acquiescence to your needs is not entirely altruistic,” she said, as if she were reading Loki’s mind.

“If it’s knowledge you’re looking for, we’ll do our best to help, though we can make no promises,” Thor said. “What is your position, Queen?”

“I’m afraid we are having a bit of a health crisis,” Briony finally said. “Kallais has been struck with illness over the past few months. Its cause is unknown to us, as is its cure. But it spreads quickly and once a person falls ill, the symptoms worsen until they perish. It takes about five days.”

“We have tried to keep the illness contained,” Lady Ailidh added. “We’ve designated a quarantine hospital and anyone showing symptoms is immediately sent there. But our physicians are at a loss because the symptoms are so broad. Fever, chills, soreness … these signs show in many illnesses, and most of the time are easy to be remedied.”

“But in the case of this particular sickness,” Bexley put in, “the symptoms worsen. The fever will not break, the person cannot eat or drink, yet they are in a near-constant state of sick. Victims grow delirious, getting weaker and weaker until they die.”

“So you’ve got an epidemic you can't cure,” Bruce surmised, “basically.”

Valkyrie tipped her small bottle into her water glass again.

Thor’s face revealed nothing, but his fingers had tightened in a clasp and a muscle moved in his jaw. “I see,” he finally said. “You must understand, I have a ship full of two thousand refugees who have just lost everything. Their homes, their possessions, their families and friends. I do not want to risk exposing them to an illness that may kill even more.” He blew out his breath. “Asgard has seen too much death of late.”

“Understood,” Briony said. “We have no intention of putting your people at harm. What we are hoping is that one or two of your healers can visit our hospital. If they could see firsthand what we face, they may be able to help us find a cure. Your medical knowledge far advances ours.”

“What precautions can you offer our healers?” Thor asked. “It would do no good for your people or mine for our healers to fall ill.”

“We have the safest precautions,” Bexley assured him. “We’ve determined that the disease spreads through direct physical contact with the infected person. Your healers would be given protective clothing to prevent this. Besides, we don’t know if Asgardians would even be susceptible to such an illness.”

“That’s a fair point,” Valkyrie said. Asgardians did not have many vulnerabilities.

Thor chewed on his lip. He glanced first at Valkyrie and then at Loki, who returned his look with a raised eyebrow of his own. If Deaphus’s resources could supply and shelter the Asgardians, that would be a massive benefit. To do so without losing their already limited supply was even better. But it came at a risk, and Thor was right – after everything that had happened, they could not be so reckless as to expose their people to fatal disease.

“Our options _are_ limited, brother,” Loki finally said.

“I know.” Thor blew out his breath and looked back at Briony. “Assuming our healers can find a cure, it may take time. What am I to do with my people in the meantime?”

“We have a stronghold camp just outside the palace that is currently unoccupied,” Bexley said. “We used to house our troops there, but they have moved to a larger location with better training grounds. It’s a well-fortified, self-contained base.”

“Though we may be lacking in medical advancements,” Briony stated, “we are not a poor world. So what we are proposing is a two-week furlough for you and your people. You may make camp in our stronghold, your people can have a respite from your ship, and you will have time to prepare for the rest of your journey. Additionally, we can offer you as much fuel as needed to get you to Midgard, as well as food and other supplies you may need. In return, we ask for your healers to help us find a cure for our epidemic. If they have not found one by the end of the fortnight, we will look into other options and you can be on your way.”

Again, Thor was quiet, pressing his lips together as he considered. “May we take a moment to discuss it?” he finally asked.

“Certainly.” Briony smiled and rose from her seat, gesturing for Bexley and Ailidh to follow her. “We’ll return shortly for your answer.”

Once the door had closed behind them, Thor blew out his breath. “What do you think?” he asked.

“They say if something’s too good to be true, it usually is,” Bruce said. “Do you guys feel like this deal is too good to be true? Plenty of fuel and supplies in exchange for medical help?”

“They do seem to be a bit behind,” Valkyrie said, glancing around at the torches which lit the room. “It’s not as if we’re getting something for nothing. Our healers would be taking a real risk, and what happens if they fall ill and we lose them?”

“We’ve got seven working in the infirmary,” Loki pointed out, “including Saija.” He looked at Thor. “Do you remember her? She apprenticed under Eir. She’d probably be able to find a cure, and anyway, we don’t need to send all seven to their hospital.”

“So we don’t need to risk _all_ of them,” Valkyrie said dryly, “only _some_. And if they die?”

“If we don’t take the deal,” Thor cut in, before Loki could snap back, “then we are looking at very limited options. Maybe we can get to Heliopolis on our fuel, but what if the people there do not allow us to access their bridge? What if we cannot find another world to trade with us for more fuel to get to the jump point?”

Loki had to concede that Thor had a point. However – “What if this is some elaborate scheme?” he countered. “It does seem awfully convenient that their epidemic coincides with the arrival of our healers.”

“But to what end?” Thor asked. “Why con us out of healing knowledge when they could just as easily trade for it, as they have proposed?”

“Maybe healing knowledge is not all they’re after,” Loki replied.

“Maybe. But it’s a chance we might have to take,” Thor said. He looked at Bruce, who had fallen quiet. “Banner? Will two weeks here be, uh, damaging?”

Bruce shook his head. “As long as I stay inside as much as possible, it should be okay.”

Valkyrie sucked air through her teeth. “I think we ought to take it,” she said. “Thor is right – if we don’t take the supplies now, we may not have another chance. Besides, I doubt we are being deceived. When I dealt with them before, there was no treachery. I believe we can take them at their word.”

“Loki?” Thor asked.

Loki lifted his hands. “I’ve expressed my doubt, but I do concede that we don’t have a better option right now.”

“Very well. Then we’ll accept the terms.” Thor held Loki’s gaze for a long moment.

 _I hope you know what you’re doing, brother,_ Loki thought.


	10. X.

 

**X.**

Lady Ailidh escorted Thor and his group to the stronghold which was, as promised, a self-contained military village. It was located on the far edges of the palace grounds, surrounded by a high brick wall, the entrance a heavy, wrought-iron gate that was, to Loki’s interest, locked with an enchantment that Lady Ailidh had to lift. Inside, they found a cluster of large barrack buildings made of brick and stone. Ailidh assured them that each one had plenty of room for their people. It would be tight, Loki thought, but better than the ship. Beyond the barracks was a large training field, along with a garage-type of building which Ailidh said was the armory.

“I suggest you and your council stay here,” she said to Thor as she led them to a smaller house just inside the gates. She again unlocked the door by lifting an enchantment, speaking a few words that caused the lock to dissolve in a sprinkle of gold light. “It is where the officers stayed. It’s small, but also better fortified. You should be most comfortable.”

“Thank you,” Thor said genuinely.

Lady Ailidh nodded and turned to take her leave. Before she could, Loki sidled over to her, lowering his voice. “How is it,” he asked, “that your people have seiðr but not knowledge of medicine?”

She appraised him. “We do have knowledge of medicine,” she corrected him, “but there is much room for progression. Not as advanced as Asgard does not mean archaic, friend.”

“Mm.” Loki gestured toward the door. “What spell have you used on the doors?”

“I will be unlocking them all, so you needn’t fret about getting locked in or out. But to answer your question, it’s a simple latching spell. I would be more than happy to show you.”

The idea of her teaching him a latching spell was laughable, but Loki did not say so. “Are many of your people familiar with seiðr, then?”

“Most. Some are more adept than others, of course, like with any skill.” She tilted her head at him. “Are you a student?”

Loki snorted, insulted that she assumed he was a novice. “I have not been a student in centuries,” he told her. “I am simply curious.” If these people were magic-wielders, he needed to know the threat they held against him and Asgard. Agreeing to their terms of exchange did not make them allies, and Loki was wary of this entire arrangement, anyway.

Ailidh did not seem bothered by his tone. “The enchantment should be no issue for you, then,” she replied. “It is a safeguard against Deaphus’s enemies, nothing more.”

“We understand,” Thor cut in. He had walked a slow circle around the main living room and made his way back to where Loki and Ailidh stood. “And again, we thank you. I know our people will be happy to be off of the ship for awhile, especially with such comfortable accommodations.”

Whatever else Thor was, no one could accuse him of not being absolutely charming when he wanted to be. Loki resisted the urge to roll his eyes, especially when he noticed the way Ailidh immediately softened, turning her peony gaze to Thor with a smile considerably warmer. “You are most gracious, your Highness,” she said. She glanced from him to Loki and back again. “I’ll take my leave of you now. Settle with your people tonight and tomorrow, we will go to the hospital.”

“Very well.” Thor reached out to shake her hand and, with a nod to both of them, Ailidh left. Once the door had closed behind her, Thor exhaled. “Must you antagonize everyone you meet?”

Loki didn’t bother to defend himself. “Yes. Makes things more fun,” he replied.

“Fun for who?” Without waiting for an answer, Thor went on, “Val and Bruce went upstairs to look at the rooms. The barracks look pretty large, so we should have room for everyone. It may be tight, but at least here, people can get outside for fresh air and exercise.”

“ _Some_ people can,” Bruce remarked, having overheard as he clattered down the stairs, Valkyrie behind him. Loki noticed that he was still shivering. In this light, his lips looked a little blue.

“Don’t worry,” said Valkyrie, slapping Bruce on the shoulder. He stumbled the last couple of steps, and Valkyrie laughed. “We’ll get you some warmer clothes. Lots of layers. It’ll be fine.”

“Yes, fine,” Bruce grumbled. “Can we put a moratorium on the, uh, physical affection? Some of us are delicate.”

“Sorry. I forgot.” Valkyrie did not sound sorry in the least. “Anyway, it’s pretty roomy upstairs. There are four rooms with three bunks in each.”

“Good. Let’s figure out how many people to each barrack and start moving them in,” Thor said.

The next few hours passed in a flurry of activity. When they returned to the ship, Thor once again gathered the people in the main hall, where he explained the results of the negotiations and the furlough. There was definite relief that spread through the people at the opportunity to get off the ship for awhile. They decided to keep the infirmary on board, rather than try to move the supplies and the few patients still there, and they kept the kitchen and the mess hall stocked, but the people packed the rest of their belongings to bring with them to the garrison. Once they were ready, they escorted the people in groups to the barracks. It was a long, dull process and Loki often found his mind wandering from the task, even as he led groups and helped people settle into their new accommodations. He knew it was only a matter of time before Thor cornered him to finish their discussion – or argument, as it were – about Loki’s plans. Though they did not share blood, Thor and Loki shared the trait of sheer stubbornness; neither one was willing to concede when each believed he was right.  But Loki had the advantage of being able to hold out _longer_. He always had. Thor was stubborn, but his fuse blew hot and fast and he was often ready to move on much sooner than Loki was.

When they were children, Loki had taken pride in knowing he could best his brother in a battle of wills, and would often provoke Thor just to incite an argument Loki could win. Thor would always play right into Loki’s hands, and they’d quarrel. After ignoring one another for awhile, Thor would start to slip. He’d smile tentatively at Loki at the evening meal, nudge against him in the halls, flick tiny parchment balls at him during their studies, even pull faces behind their tutor’s back, trying to make Loki laugh. And eventually, Loki would, and their quarrel would be forgotten.

Yet even as a child, he’d known exactly what he was doing when he played those games. It made him feel powerful to withhold his attention and his company, because Thor needed it so badly. By denying it, not only could Loki drive Thor mad, but he could also prove he didn’t need Thor. His silence said _I’m fine without you. I_ _a_ _m strong and you are weak, and that makes me better than you_. It did not matter if Loki was dying to play with Thor again, to laugh and joke with him like they always did. He didn’t show it, and perception was all that mattered.

If Loki simply waited him out, Thor would concede eventually. He would put the good of the people above his attachment to Loki, because Thor was king first and brother second, and it had been that way long before Thor finally claimed the crown.

It should have been long past nightfall by the time all of the refugees were settled in for the furlough, but the sun still hung in the sky, though considerably lower than it had been on their arrival. The officers’ house required them to bunk up, which meant that Loki was sharing a room with Thor. He was not thrilled about that, but it was better than being crammed into his tiny quarters on the ship. Heimdall, Bruce, and Heimdall’s sword also shared a room, with Valkyrie taking the third. She insisted on bringing her pet, Dagny, with her; the fourth room was given to Saija and two of her healers.

Loki stood at the window in his and Thor’s room, watching the sky. Deaphus’s solar cycle was not comparable to Asgard’s, it would seem. They would need to accurately measure the length of the days, if they were to be here for several. It occurred to Loki that a fortnight might mean something completely different here; two Deaphan weeks could be as long as an Asgardian month, for all they knew. He cursed himself for not realizing that sooner.

“Hey.” Loki had heard someone’s approaching footsteps, but he did not know who it was until the Valkyrie stuck her head in the doorway. Loki glanced at her, eyebrow raised. Dagny was with her. “We’re about to prepare _n_ _á_ _ttm_ _á_ _l_ , if you want to come help.”

“I’m not particularly skilled in the kitchen,” Loki replied.

Valkyrie’s mouth fell open in feigned shock. “What? His Majesty has admitted he’s _not_ good at something? Now I know Ragnarok has come.”

“You might let a bit more time pass before making jokes about it,” Loki said, but the corners of his lips twitched. He turned his back to her so that she wouldn’t see, once again focusing his gaze out the window.

“Come on, that was funny.” Valkyrie snickered. He heard her murmur something to Dagny and then a small pair of footsteps thudded down the stairs. Valkyrie was quiet for so long that, if Loki didn’t know better, he would assume she’d left. But she hadn’t; he could still feel her behind him, studying him.

“Was there something else?” he finally asked, letting out an impatient breath. He turned to see that she was leaning against the threshold, arms folded, staring back at him.

“You laughed just then, you know you did. Why are you so keen to hide it?”

“I wouldn’t want to encourage your sense of humor,” Loki replied. “Not much more complicated than that.”

“I don’t believe you.” Valkyrie pushed away from the doorway and joined him at the window, peering out at the sky. She seemed completely at ease, unbothered by either the lack of an invitation to enter or Loki’s palpable annoyance. “You go out of your way to be unpleasant,” she went on, not looking at him. “I can’t figure out what purpose it serves.”

“Thus spoketh the proverbial pot.” It was an expression he’d picked up on Midgard – the archer had said it, maybe, though Loki did not remember the context or the conversation. _The pot calling the kettle black_ – or, hypocrisy at its finest. Funny how inane things could stick in one’s mind, but it seemed appropriate now.

“What?”

“You’re being hypocritical,” Loki said. “Accusing me of going out of my way to be unpleasant, but wasn’t that what you were doing on Sakaar? What purpose did it serve you?”

Her face clouded briefly. “That was different.”

“I don’t think so.”

“My time on Sakaar was self-preservation,” she said. “I did what I had to do to make it from one day to the next. Whether that meant drinking or scavenging or _being unpleasant_ , it was a means to an end. Survival. But I was only running away, and I realized that. So what are you running from, Lackey?”

Loki folded his arms. The sun seemed to have inched a bit lower, though he’d been watching it for so long it was possible his eyes were playing tricks on him. “Don’t you know? Hasn’t my brother already filled you in on all my secrets?”

She rolled her eyes. “Contrary to what you believe, we don’t sit around talking about you. Thor only told me a little about Midgard, and even that was only because he wanted my advice. He was worrying himself into quite a state, knowing Midgard would want retribution if you came back.”

He did not hide the jolt of shock quickly enough, and Valkyrie smirked as if she’d won something. But Loki had not expected that reveal – perhaps he had not truly believed that Thor had considered what Loki already knew. Loki was quick to accuse Thor of abandoning logic in favor of sentiment, but occasionally, Thor surprised him. “Even so,” he said, recovering his composure, “that should give you some idea.”

“It really doesn’t.” Valkyrie bit her lip, as if trying to decide how much to say. “Thor seems to think that you … weren’t quite yourself when you went to Midgard.”

Another revelation. Loki pressed his lips together, refusing to meet her gaze. Thor believed him mad, in other words. It was not entirely an incorrect belief, but it was one Thor had never expressed to Loki. Neither had even mentioned Midgard until this journey, and even then, it was in relation to Loki’s actions and possible repercussions. But his motivations? His state of mind? Those were the unspoken things, the truths buried deep down in the dark. Perhaps, they were simply too painful for Thor to talk about; certainly, Loki never intended on bringing them up. He was haunted enough in his memories and his dreams – he had no desire to make it worse by dragging it to the surface.

One of the things that Loki remembered had happened after it was all over. When the portal was closed and the Chitauri beaten back, when Loki was in chains, muzzled like a dog, he remembered the look on Thor’s face. He’d held out the Tesseract to bring them both home, his expression so full of sorrow and disappointment at what his brother had become. He was not pleased with his victory and did not relish bringing Loki home as a prisoner. At the time, Loki had brushed it off. He had room for neither Thor’s pathetic melancholy nor his pity. It infuriated him to think of Thor’s remorse for what had occurred – for what did Thor expect, when he’d thrown Loki to the very creatures who would bend him to their will?

Time passed. Loki was slowly freed from the influence of the Scepter, and when his mind was once again his own, if worse for the wear, Thor’s expression was one of the things that kept coming back to him.

“Something happened to you,” Valkyrie guessed.

_If you fail, if the Tesseract is kept from us –_

Loki flinched and squeezed his eyes shut against the voice. He took a long breath, held it, and exhaled again. “Nothing happened to me,” he bit out. “Consider that I am simply an unpleasant person and it takes no effort on my part to remain so. If that bothers you, that’s your concern, not mine.”

“Oh. So it’s perfectly acceptable for you to see into _my_ head, but I’m not allowed to figure out yours? _Pot._ ” Valkyrie turned her back on him and stalked toward the door. She stopped at the threshold, giving him a backward glance. “One day, you’re going to have pushed so many people away that all you’ll have is yourself. It’s a lonely realization, when it happens. Take it from someone who knows.” Without giving him a chance to reply – not that he would have, anyway – she left the room, her footfalls echoing heavily behind her as if, by stamping her feet, she was emphasizing her point.

Loki shook his head, more irritated than ever. At some point during her speech, his skin had started to crawl and now he noticed that the dull throbbing behind his eyes was back. He could hear faint whispers, too faint for him to make out the words, but just loud enough to send his mind reeling. These physical manifestations of his fear during waking hours always seemed to follow any conversation about Midgard. Was it simply memory, then, that tormented him? Or was it more?

_It_ _’_ _s always more, Asgardian._

Light danced behind his eyes, but Loki managed to remain upright, grasping onto the windowsill. Slowly, the whispers faded. Loki steadied his breathing. Valkyrie was wrong, he thought. Realizing he was alone would not be a sudden revelation one day, a consequence of his actions. His entire life, all he’d had was himself. Loneliness could ache, but it was preferable to the burn of loss, of torment, of madness.

Outside, the sun had finally set.


	11. XI.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Call me butter, 'cause I'm on a roll this week. No one minds rapid updates, do they?

 

**XI.**

 

That night, Loki dreamt of his mother.

He stood in her garden, which he’d always thought was the most beautiful place in all of Asgard. It was Frigga’s sanctuary, a sacred enclosure where no one was allowed without her express permission and, often, supervision. The only exception had been Loki – he could not remember when he’d started to sneak into the garden on his own, only that it was very early in his childhood. It was his sanctuary, too, a place he’d seek out to be alone. He would curl under the shade of an apple tree, press his back into the thick trunk and run his fingers over the bark. He’d read, or practice spells, or sometimes simply sit, alone with his thoughts.

Loki did not remember when Frigga caught on. Perhaps, she’d always known. One day he was napping under the tree when he felt her fingers smoothing back his hair, and when he’d bolted upright, stumbling over apologies, she’d only smiled and admonished him gently. “You know better, Loki,” was all she said. But she had not punished him, nor prevented him from going back. It was their secret.

Now, the garden was gone, like the rest of Asgard. Yet there Loki stood, surrounded by tangled thickets and lush ferns. He walked slowly along a stone path lined with manicured hedges, trailing his fingers along the soft petals of willowherb. Asgard’s sun was setting, yet it still beat down fiercely, drenching the pathways in its pale, golden light. Summertime, Loki thought, had always been the most peaceful time, the most beautiful. All of the florals were in full bloom and the fruit trees bore ripe apples, peaches, and figs. He saw a flicker of a shadow from the corner of his eye and when he turned to look, he recognized younger versions of himself and Thor, giggling and trying to catch fireflies in the muggy dusk. Just as quickly, the vision evaporated, leaving only the echo of laughter behind.

Frigga was sitting in the shade beneath her favorite birch. Loki drew in a sharp breath when he saw her. She was just as beautiful as he remembered – even more so. Her brilliant hair tumbled in curls down her back, and she wore the soft, cerulean dress she’d been in when he last saw her. She held an embroidery in her lap and was humming a tune Loki recognized as a lullaby she used to sing when he was a child, but she stopped when she looked up and saw him.

“My son,” she greeted him warmly. She did not look the least bit surprised to find him there.

Loki stood rooted to the spot, afraid that if he stepped too close, she would disappear. Yet all he wanted to do was run to her and throw his arms around her; if he held her tightly enough, he could unwind the thread of her Fate and bring her back. “Mother,” he managed, and his voice shook.

“Come.” Frigga patted the grass beside her and then returned to her tune, her voice as sweet as the warm milk and honey she’d give him as a child. Loki found himself moving closer, his steps hesitant, watching her slender fingers work her needle and thread. When he settled down beside her, she looked over at him and reached out to touch his face. Loki closed his eyes and pressed his palm over her hand.

“I have missed you so,” Frigga said. “Look how you have grown in such a short time. My handsome son.”

Loki opened his eyes. And then, just as when he’d been caught in her garden that first time, the apologies spilled out faster than he could help them. “I’m sorry,” he said, bowing his head, unable to meet her gaze. “I’m sorry, Mother.”

“Shhh. It’s all right.” She smoothed her fingers over his hair, brushing it back away from his face.  “You’ve nothing to apologize for, my son.”

“It was my fault.” Many things were his fault, but he was concerned with only one. “That day … I was so angry with Odin. I told them which way to go. I knew it would cause trouble but I never imagined …I am so _sorry_.”

“Oh, darling. I know.” Frigga pulled him close, wrapping her arms around him. She still smelled of saffron. “But you mustn’t carry that burden. It would have happened, regardless. And I am at peace. The only loss I feel is for you and for Thor, but it is a comfort to know you boys have one another. One day, we will all be reunited.”

Loki’s eyes stung. He blinked rapidly. “We won’t,” he whispered. “I don’t belong.”

“Of course you do. You are of Asgard, Loki, by love if not by birth. Your place is as sure as mine. But, my son.” She pulled back, clasping his face in her hands so that he had to look at her. “It will not be an easy path. Danger is coming. You and Thor will need each other more than ever.”

“What sort of danger?”

Frigga just smiled. “It will come,” she repeated.

“That is less than helpful, Mother.” Loki pressed his lips together and looked away, watching a yellow butterfly drift along a bramble bush. “What am I to do?”

“You must be cautious,” she responded, tucking his hair behind his ear, “and you must be strong. But most of all, you must stay with Thor. Only together will you be able to triumph. Your strengths balance one another, they always have.” She lowered her hands and bowed her head, coughing a little. “My time is nearly finished,” she added.

Loki shook his head. “No, Mother. Please don’t go. I -” his voice caught. “I can’t go it alone.”

“You are not alone,” she reminded him. Her voice was growing hoarse and she pressed a hand to her abdomen. Loki’s eyes widened as he saw crimson blood beginning to seep through her beautiful dress.

“Mother!”

“Remember my words.” Frigga looked back up at him. She brushed her fingers against his cheek and as soon as he felt the contact, he jolted awake, breathing hard. Frigga, the garden, and Asgard were gone, and he was surrounded only by the darkness of his room. His blankets were tangled and he felt clammy, a cold sweat prickling his skin. His cheeks were wet, he realized, but it did not appear that he’d screamed. He lay there for a few minutes, letting the tears slip out silently. His heart ached with loss, the wound of his mother’s death suddenly as fresh as the day it had happened.

Across the room, Thor slept soundly. He was splayed on his stomach, face buried into his pillow. Loki sighed, pulling himself into a sitting position. He brushed the moisture from his cheeks and rubbed his eyes, concentrating on making his breathing even and slow. Had it been a true vision, or merely a wish brought on by a grieving mind? Loki could not tell; he knew not what his mind was capable of anymore. It had not been completely intact since before he fell from the rainbow bridge.

Perhaps danger was coming. Or perhaps Loki was merely worried it was.

He got dressed and then went into the bathroom, where he splashed cold water from the basin on his face, then pushed his hands through his hair and looked at his reflection. His lack of sleep was starting to show – he was paler than usual, with circles under his red-rimmed eyes. He turned away from the mirror and slipped out past Thor’s sleeping form, into the hall.

Loki had never made an appearance at the evening meal. He’d stayed in his room after the sun set, and by the time Thor had come in, he’d rolled onto his side in bed, facing the wall, pretending to be asleep so that he wouldn’t have to talk. He’d listened to Thor moving quietly about the room, removing his armor and leathers. It was such a familiar sound, even though it had been centuries since they were young enough to share a room, that listening to it had allowed Loki to drift off to sleep for real.

With everyone sleeping, Loki now had a chance to familiarize himself with his new surroundings. The hallway outside the bedrooms was wide with deep brown wood flooring. There were two rooms on each side of the hall, but Loki did not know which was whose. At the end of the hallway was the staircase leading to the ground floor. He walked down quietly, running his palm along the thick bannister as he went. Like the palace, there was no electricity. Loki conjured a small, glowing orb of light, which hovered above his hand so that he could see where he was going. Downstairs was a small but comfortable living room, with a bookcase against the wall. Just beyond the living room was the kitchen and dining area, along with another bathroom. The accommodations were not bad, though they were not particularly interesting, either. Loki skimmed over the bookshelf, committing the titles to memory in case he felt like perusing anything later, before heading into the kitchen to find something left over from the meal.

He found the Valkyrie instead. There was a small table in the center of the kitchen and there she sat, nursing a bottle of drink. Several candles were lit, bathing the room in a honey glow. She gave no indication that she had seen or heard him, even though he was in plain sight in the threshold.

Loki closed his fist around his light and it disappeared. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“What does it look like?”

“Right. Silly question,” he said dryly. He was not hungry enough to put up with her presence, so he started to leave, but then he looked a bit more closely and noticed that her eyes were swollen. “Um. What’s wrong?”

“What do you care?” Valkyrie tipped her head back, downing the rest of the bottle.

“I don’t. Just trying not to be so unpleasant.” He lifted his hands in a surrendering gesture. “I’ll leave you to it.”

She snorted, getting up and going over to the ice box for another bottle. “Want one?”

Her offer took him by surprise. Loki hesitated. On the one hand, he was already sorry he’d expressed concern and had no intention of letting her cry on his shoulder. On the other hand, he knew he would get no more sleep that night and he didn’t particularly want to return to his room to lay in the dark, either. “All right.”

Valkyrie’s eyebrows went up, ever so slightly, but she just tossed him a second bottle, which he caught easily. “What is this?”

“Don’t know, don’t care.” Valkyrie popped the top off her bottle and took a long swig. She grabbed another for good measure and brought them back to the table, settling in again.

Loki frowned, watching her for a moment before he sighed. He twisted open his own bottle and took an experimental sip. It tasted like mead, except stronger and more bitter. It was not bad, exactly, but he wouldn’t call it good, either. “Does it help?” he asked, taking another sip.

“What? Drinking?” Valkyrie smiled without amusement. “Depends on what you’re trying to forget. It certainly doesn’t hurt.”

“Mm.” Loki supposed he couldn’t argue with that. He hesitated, and then sat down opposite her. For awhile, neither said anything; they stole glances at one another, as if they were each daring the other to say the wrong thing or make a wrong move. Valkyrie finished both of her bottles before Loki was even halfway through his, but when she got up to get another, she brought one for him, too.

“You never came to _n_ _á_ _ttm_ _á_ _l_ ,” she finally said.

Loki felt a bit smug that she’d spoken first, though his expression stayed impassive. “Wasn’t hungry.”

“You shouldn’t drink on an empty stomach,” she advised. “Hits you faster.”

“Thanks for your concern,” he replied, “but I am not a delicate flower. I won’t keel over after one or two drinks.”

“Suit yourself.” Valkyrie paused with her newest bottle halfway to her lips, and then grinned. “Besides, if you were a flower, you’d be an oshredil.”

“What?”

“Oshredil. You know, those blue flowers that are all pretty and fragrant, so you go to pick one up and get jabbed with a million thorns? That’s you. Not delicate in the least.”

Loki snorted. “So you think I’m pretty?”

“And stabby.” She grinned again, already finishing up her third bottle. She gestured toward the one she’d brought him. “Are you going to drink that?”

“Go ahead.”

They fell silent again. Loki sipped at his drink, listening to the sounds of the world outside. Deaphus’s nighttime sounds reminded him of Asgard; there was the faint hum of crickets and the soft sway of leaves rustling in the breeze. He thought of his mother’s garden, how the breeze carried with it the sweet scent of honeysuckle, and something tightened in the back of his throat. If he went back to sleep now, the odds were slim that he’d dream of her again, but suddenly, Loki wanted to try. In the weeks after she’d died, he’d dreamt of her often but the dreams eventually faded. He was only left with nightmares now, and those seemed intent to stay.

He felt Valkyrie’s gaze on him and lifted his eyes. She was swirling the liquid in her bottle around, forming a funnel with the drink that remained. “You asked what was wrong, earlier,” she said. “Do you really want to know?”

“No.” 

She made a face at him. “I keep thinking about Hela. About when the Valkyrie went in the first time.”

Loki shifted uncomfortably. “What about it?”

“We never stood a chance,” she told him. She blew out a breath and ran her finger back and forth along the rim of her bottle, which produced a faint squealing sound. “I lost everything, then. I’ve spent so long imagining it going differently. If I’d been faster or stronger, a better warrior. I’ve wasted hundreds of years in a haze of regret, and it was for _nothing_. We never stood a chance,” she repeated. “I have to wonder if Odin truly knew that, and sent us anyway.”

Loki was quiet. She tipped her head back, downing the last of her drink; at this rate, she would be drunk within minutes, if she wasn’t already. How much had she had before Loki had shown up? He rubbed the back of his neck. He rarely found himself without words, but on the occasion that he did, it made him feel awkward and uncertain, like the world was tilting on its axis. “I’m sorry,” he finally said.

“It’s not your fault.” Valkyrie shrugged. She hopped up and walked out of the kitchen, to both his bemusement and mild relief. As heart-to-hearts went, it could have been worse. But his relief was short lived; a few minutes later she was back, holding a large decanter filled with amber liquid along with two glasses.

Loki genuinely wondered how she could possibly drink so much and still be alive.

She did not seem concerned with the look on his face. She set the decanter down hard on the table and poured both of them a glass, handing him his while simultaneously swiping his half-finished bottle. She gulped it down and then lifted her glass. “Bottoms up,” she said, clinking it against his.

“Cheers,” Loki replied dryly and then downed his in one swallow. Might as well.

Whatever it was burned the back of his throat – _Norns,_ it was strong. He wondered if it was something she’d found in the house or if she’d brought it with her from the Grandmaster’s ship. The latter, most likely. Loki blew out a breath, clearing his throat. “Shit.”

“Agreed.” Valkyrie shot him a grin and refilled their glasses. Loki took his time with the second one, unwilling to drink himself into a stupor, no matter how tempted he was by the allure of not _feeling_ for awhile.

“Did you and Thor truly not know about her?” Valkyrie asked.

Loki shook his head. He thought of that brief meeting in Norway, Odin speaking so matter-of-factly of how he’d hidden his first-born, imprisoned her away, as if he was not bringing Thor and Loki’s reality crashing down around them – again. Loki was burdened with the title of God of Lies, but the well of Odin’s deceit ran so deep that he and Thor would probably never truly reach the bottom of it. And though Loki had felt regret at Odin’s passing, at the loss of the only man he’d known as a father, he was not sorry he’d stranded Odin on Earth to begin with. Had he not, Odin, father or no, would have left Loki to rot forever under Asgard, forgotten and erased just like Hela.

“Odin was not much for sharing his shameful secrets,” he heard himself say. There was definitely more than a little bitterness in his voice. “Once he buried something, it stayed buried.”

Valkyrie nodded slowly. “Including you, I assume.”

Loki’s anger snapped. “Choose _your_ words wisely, Valkyrie,” he snarled. “Do I look to be buried to you?”

“Not physically.” She looked unfazed. “But he seems to have done a fair amount of emotional damage. Not just to you.”

“So this is about Thor.” Of course it was. Loki scowled. Was not everything about Thor?

“Why do you resent him so much?” she asked. She was already refilling her glass.

He laughed, the sound low and hollow. “Why don’t you ask him?”

“I’d rather ask you.”

Loki’s jaw tightened. Abruptly he got up and went over to the ice box, finding it filled not only with several bottles of drink, but hunks of meats wrapped in clear rationing packages and a few cartons of milk, cheese, and eggs. He was not particularly hungry anymore, if he ever had been, but he refused to sit across the table from her while she tried to pick his brain. He needed to move around. He turned to the pantry, finding it stocked well with vegetables, fruits, and breads, along with a few jars of honey and an assortment of herbs and spices. If they were given even half of supplies such as these, they would have a plethora left over by the time they arrived on Earth.

He was avoiding the question.

Valkyrie did not press, but she didn’t leave, either. Loki picked up an orange, turning it over in his hands. He leaned against the pantry, facing her again. “It doesn’t matter,” he told her.

“Of course it does. It matters to you and to Thor.” Valkyrie sipped her drink, eyeing him over the rim of her glass. “He told me you don’t want to go back to Earth. He’s desperate for you to stay.”

Loki snorted. He tossed the orange from hand to hand. “You say you don’t sit around talking about me, but you seem to know everything Thor and I discuss.”

“We don’t talk about _just_ you,” she amended.

“What else do you talk about?”

Valkyrie shrugged, swirling her liquor. “Plenty. What it’s like on Midgard. How Asgard used to be. His friends – the ones who died, and the one stranded on Earth. Jane Foster. His worries about being king. You.” She finished her drink and picked up his abandoned glass, downing that, too.

“Mm.” Loki let the orange hover in the air in favor of folding his arms across his chest. “And what do you do when you’re not talking?”

Finally, something he said seemed to get to her. She coughed a little, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand. He might have been imagining it, but he could have sworn her cheeks colored slightly. “We are not sharing a bed, if that’s what you’re asking,” she growled. “Not that it would be any of your business if we were.”

“I can’t be concerned with my brother’s delicate feelings?” Loki returned. “Did he not tell you of his heartbreak over Jane Foster?” 

“The day I believe you’re concerned with your brother’s feelings is the day … well, Ragnarok has already come, but I’ll get back to you after the next disaster.”

“That hurts.” Loki let the orange fall into his palm, carrying it with him back over to the island. He took his glass back from her and refilled it; for the second time that night, he downed the contents in one shot. “I feel nothing but benevolence for Thor.”

“Liar.” Valkyrie swiped the orange. “How do you make it do that?”

“Do what?”

“Float like that.” She tossed it and let go, as if she expected it to hang in the air, but it just dropped to the ground with an unimpressive splat. “Oops. That was a waste of a perfectly good orange.”

“That’s a child’s trick,” Loki told her with a roll of his eyes. He flicked his wrist and the orange leapt back up from the floor, circling around her before returning to the table. “It’s not ruined.”

“Hmm.” Valkyrie nudged it with her fingers. “Show off.”

Despite himself, he grinned. “If I wanted to show off, I’d do something at least a _little_ impressive.”

“Prove it,” she challenged.  

Loki tilted his head slightly, considering. Perhaps, he was being influenced by the drink, though he did not feel inebriated But it would not take much effort to create an illusion and, for some reason, the idea that he could impress her with something that Thor could not was too tempting to pass up.

“All right.” He picked up the orange. With a shimmer of greenish-gold light, it was not an orange at all – it was a round, glass bauble with shimmering tendrils of purple and blue swirling around inside of it, contrasting with the twinkling of countless microscopic stars. It was a reflection of the way Asgard’s sky looked at night, when the sun had long set and they were one with the cosmos, the sky glistening like a sea of jewels for as far as the eye could see.

He lifted his gaze to hers just in time to see the thrilled smile before she hid it. “Not bad,” she said, reaching out and skimming her fingertips over the glass exterior. “How did you do it?”

“It’s just an illusion,” he told her. “It’s still an orange, but the way you see it has changed.” Loki handed it to her. “Here. Don’t say I never did anything nice for you.”

Valkyrie rolled her eyes and turned it over delicately, examining it from all angles. “Won’t it return to an orange eventually?”

“Not unless I drop the illusion,” he replied with a shrug. Some illusions took much more effort than others – shapeshifting, for instance, was a bit more draining, especially over the long term. But making a piece of fruit appear a sparkling bauble? Still a child’s trick, maintained without thought or effort.

“Hmm,” was all she said. She looked at him as if she did not know quite what to make of him – which, in Loki’s opinion, meant he was doing something right for a change.


	12. XII.

 

**XII.**

The sun was up again relatively quickly. After Valkyrie went to bed, Loki stayed in the living room, reading a book on the history of Deaphus while he mentally kept track of the time. Nightfall on Deaphus was shorter than on Asgard by a couple of hours, and the day longer by about five. By Loki’s calculations, it evened out to a flow of time that was not drastically different from Asgard’s. Their fortnight would not be much longer than it would have been on Asgard, so at least they were not stuck on this planet for much longer than they anticipated.

Loki drifted back to sleep again at some point after the sun rose; the next thing he knew, bright light was streaming in through the windows and Thor was ruffling his hair. “Hey, sleepyhead,” he said with audible cheer.

“Go away,” Loki muttered without opening his eyes. He slapped Thor’s hand away.

“Slim chance.” Thor pushed Loki’s legs out of the way so that he could drop down onto the sofa. “What happened? You were out like a light when I got upstairs last night, but now I find you sleeping on the couch. Was I snoring or something?”

“If you were, nobody in this house would have gotten any sleep,” Loki replied groggily. Thor did not habitually snore, but when he was ill, the sound of his breathing rivaled even the loudest thunder he could summon from the sky. Loki remembered many nights during their childhood when he’d had to cloak the sound just so he could get any sleep. Thor was never any the wiser.

Loki rubbed the sleep from his eyes. His book was laying on his chest, still open, and his neck felt stiff from the strange angle in which he’d fallen asleep. He closed the book and set it on the coffee table and sat up, stifling a yawn. He considered for a moment telling Thor about his dream and Frigga’s warning, but dismissed the idea just as quickly. If his mind was playing tricks on him, the last thing he needed was for Thor to know. “I got restless last night, that’s all,” he added, in response to Thor’s questioning look. “Decided to read for a bit.”

“Oh. Another nightmare?” Thor asked carefully.

“No.” Loki yawned again. “So what’s the plan for today, brother? Should I take Saija over to the hospital?”

“You’re welcome to come along,” Thor said agreeably. “We’ll be leaving soon.”

Loki’s eyebrows went up. “We?”   

“What?”

“ _You_ can’t go,” Loki pointed out. “We don’t know what this illness is, and the last thing we need is for you, the king, to get sick and die.” _Honestly._ Loki would have wondered if Thor’s obtuseness was a result of taking too many blows to the head during battle, except Thor had been that way long before he’d ever picked up his first weapon.

Thor opened his mouth, and then closed it again. He looked back at Loki, frustration etched into his features. “I can’t _not_ go,” he finally said. “I’m the leader here. How will it look if I send the healers into a place I am not willing to go?”

“It will look as if you are taking the proper precautions as king of a refugee people.” Heimdall’s low baritone made Loki’s heart skip in surprise, though to his credit, he did not outwardly show that he was startled. Very few people could sneak up on Loki but, unfortunately, Heimdall was one of those people.

“Don’t tell me you agree.” Thor groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “And if I wish to see the conditions – and the victims – myself?”

“Don’t be a fool,” Loki said. “At least wait until Saija can tell us whether or not Asgardians are susceptible. If you can’t get sick, then by all means, brother, go live in the hospital if you want to.”

“Gee, _thanks._ ” Thor shot Loki a look of annoyance, but he did look resigned to Loki’s point. “Fine. Heimdall, maybe you can accompany Loki in my place?”

The last thing Loki wanted was to spend any time alone with Heimdall. He shot his brother a glare that could have frozen half of Muspelheim, but Thor just smiled back at him. Heimdall pretended not to notice either brother’s look. “That would be fine, your Majesty.”

___

 _D_ _agmál_ consisted mostly of fruit, eggs, and bread. It was a refreshing change to not be crowded into the mess hall with a thousand other people, Loki had to admit. He munched on an apple and watched as Thor and Valkyrie moved around one another in the kitchen, almost perfectly in sync as they prepared their meals. Thor was laughing at something Valkyrie had said, and in response, she lightly swatted his shoulder. A couple of times, she looked up, feeling Loki’s gaze, and she lifted her eyebrows at him, to which he only smirked in response. Not sharing a bed, indeed.

He didn’t know why he cared.

They went their separate ways after the meal – Bruce, having found some parchment along with a heavy cloak, wandered into the living room, muttering to himself and scrawling on his paper, while Valkyrie and Thor headed out to the training field, taking advantage of the space to spar a few rounds. Meanwhile, Loki and Heimdall walked with Saija and her two most trusted healers whose names, Loki learned, were Gerda and Viera. Saija was an older woman, though not as old as Eir had been; Gerda and Viera were younger and had just completed their apprenticeships before Hela arrived. Or so they told Heimdall. Loki trailed behind them, feeling very out of place as he listened to their exchange of small talk on their way to the palace. Eventually, the healers’ conversation turned toward this mysterious illness, as they wondered what it could be and how they could come up with a remedy.

Heimdall slowed, falling into step beside Loki, which made Loki feel even more uncomfortable, if possible. “We have not had much chance to talk, you and I,” he said, his voice low.

“We don’t have anything to talk about,” Loki answered. Heimdall was possibly the only person in the Universe whose eyes Loki had always had trouble meeting. He kept his eyes lowered, watching the grass beneath his boots as he walked. For as long as he could remember, Loki had found being in Heimdall’s presence deeply unsettling. His all-seeing gaze made Loki’s skin crawl. He learned to shield himself from Heimdall’s view early in his lessons, and did so as often as possible, but his protective seiðr did not offer any buffer against the Gatekeeper’s tangible presence.

“Perhaps not. But you should know that I think your presence here is good for Thor. The new king relies on you, and you have been a great help to him.”

Loki glanced up, quirking an eyebrow. “Are you campaigning for me to stay?”

“No. I’m only sharing my observation with you.” Heimdall pulled his cloak a bit more tightly around his shoulders. “You and I have had our differences, Loki, but they matter not any longer.”

“Our differences?” Loki let out a hollow laugh. “Is that what you would call it?”

Heimdall’s golden eyes traversed Loki’s face, unblinking. He slowed his pace even more, creating a bit more distance between them and the healers. “I hold no ill will toward you, if that’s your concern.”

“ _You_ hold - ?” This time, Loki’s laugh was more a sound of disbelief. “And what exactly have I done to earn your ill will? Of the two of us, I am the only one not to have committed treason against the other.”

Heimdall lifted his eyebrows slightly. “Oh?”

Loki forced himself to meet Heimdall’s eyes directly. “Have you forgotten how quickly you sent Sif and the others to Earth to bring Thor back, against my express wishes and Odin’s command?”

“I have not,” Heimdall admitted, “but I believed, at the time, that I was doing the right thing.”

“It was treason,” Loki hissed. As the years passed and Loki grew more comfortable wearing the mask of king, he could pretend such things no longer mattered. Certainly, he and Heimdall had not been in one another’s presence long enough to ever discuss it, since, but even if they had, Loki would not have brought it up. But now, Heimdall’s words sparked a surge of fury that Loki did not try to alleviate. “I was king – _legitimately_ king – yet you did not give me the courtesy of even a day’s loyalty. You, who swore an oath of allegiance to Asgard’s throne, no matter _who_ sat upon it.”

“Even if he who sat upon it had only days before let the Jotuns into Asgard for the purpose of destroying his brother’s coronation?”

Loki scowled. There was a heaviness in his chest that he recognized as the urge to strike Heimdall down, as swiftly as swatting a gnat from the air. His reflexes were quicker than Heimdall’s physical sight; he could slit the other man’s throat before Heimdall even saw it coming. How easy it was, he thought, for his anger to inspire violence – and wasn’t _that_ a twisted realization, that deep down, he was no better than Thor, who preferred to punch through his problems rather than solve them. “Thor was not ready to rule,” he retorted. “I was doing only what I thought best for Asgard.”

“Yes. I know you believe you were.” Heimdall’s tone was maddeningly sanctimonious. “I believe you have always had Asgard’s best interests at heart.”

“How magnanimous of you.” Loki clenched his fists at his sides, physically restraining himself from snatching his daggers.

Heimdall sighed. He was nothing if not a pillar of serenity, but in that moment, frustration flitted across his features. “I meant no offense, Loki. All I meant to say was that, no matter what has happened in the past, it pleases me now to see you and Thor working so well together. Asgard as it was will never be again, but I believe your father would be proud of how you and your brother are building it anew.”

“Your belief is mistaken,” said Loki tightly. Odin’s pride had always been reserved for Thor, Loki’s contributions to Thor’s successes rarely acknowledged. It was just one of the common traits throughout their lives – whether it was Loki’s magic distracting their enemies on the battlefield, or Loki’s advice soothing Thor’s temper after an argument with Odin, Thor always tended to reap the benefits of Loki’s efforts. Loki no longer believed that Thor did it maliciously, but he did it all the same.

Even in Odin's dying moments, his confession of Hela and warning of Ragnarok was directed mostly at Thor; Loki was an afterthought, an observer to the conversation rather than a part of it. _I love you, my sons_ , Odin had said, and Loki had felt physical pain in his chest at the words. For all of his shortcomings, perhaps Odin _believed_ he loved Loki as well as Thor, but in the end, it was worth less than the glimmering dust Odin had faded into.

Nothing had changed. Loki was still the quiet pedestal on which Thor stood tall, and if Odin could see them now, Loki had no doubt that he would see Thor alone - as if Loki was not even there.

He felt Heimdall touch his shoulder, just briefly. Loki flinched and shrugged away from the touch, but Heimdall did not look bothered. They were drawing close to the palace entrance, and Loki saw Lady Ailidh approaching them, along with Bexley and one of the older council members.

For better or for worse, his and Heimdall’s conversation was over. “Welcome,” Ailidh said, lifting a hand and smiling warmly. If she was wary to see Loki instead of Thor, she didn’t show it. Loki returned her smile, though his was not nearly as genuine. It was a reflex, sheer habit allowing him to slide into the diplomatic role of prince and politician even though under the surface he was still seething over Heimdall’s words.

“I hope your accommodations are satisfactory,” Ailidh said.

“Very much, thank you,” Loki replied. “This is Heimdall of Asgard, and our healers – Saija, Gerda, and Viera.”

They wasted a few minutes exchanging introductions. The older woman was called Lady Fenya. She had coppery hair that was streaked with gray and the same peony-colored eyes as Ailidh. When the pleasantries were finished, Ailidh guided them the rest of the way to the hospital. It was located on the palace grounds, separated from the main compound. It looked like a home one might find on Earth, Loki thought, a three-storied house with black-trimmed shutters and a heavy front door. They walked up a cobbled pathway to the door, lined with daffodils and daisies. “This used to serve as a military hospital,” Fenya said, while Ailidh lifted the enchantment on the door. “Several decades ago, we were engaged in a conflict and the fighting was brought here, to Kallais. Many of our soldiers were injured, and we did not have enough space in the main hospital. This home was a separate residence for the king, but it was converted for the overflow of soldiers and, since then, has kept to that purpose.”

“We are glad for its isolation now,” Bexley added, “so that we may have a proper quarantine.”

“Convenient,” Loki remarked. Inside, the home was bright and airy, windows covered only by sheer white curtains that did little to block out the sunlight. “This conflict – do you refer to the Vraehr War?”

Ailidh looked at him in surprise. “You know of it?”

“I did some reading last night,” Loki replied, ignoring Heimdall’s curious look. “Certainly I am no expert. But Deaphus nearly fell to your neighboring planet, Veurus, yes?”

Fenya nodded, leading them through the foyer to the stairwell. “Yes, a dictator rose to power on Veurus and led the Vraehr on a conquest to acquire several worlds under his command. Fortunately, he was able to be defeated, with help from our allies.”

“Hm.” Loki made a sound of acknowledgement, but did not reply as they reached the first floor. The healers had been hanging back, content to listen to the conversation, but as Loki took in the sight before him, he very swiftly felt out of his element and fell back, prepared to defer to them.

The first floor was a wide open space with many windows to let the light in, but the cheery sun did not ease the suffering plain before them. There were several rows of beds laid out, each one surrounded by a protective glass partition so that the patients remained separate not only from one another, but from the healers and nurses who milled about. Loki’s first thought was that these people were dead already – they lay eerily still, skin bloodless and chests barely moving with their breathing. But they _were_ breathing, so they must still be alive. A few were coughing, a couple more tossing and turning. They clutched at their blankets and occasionally leaned over to retch into bedside pots.

“Oh,” Saija said softly.

Ailidh nodded grimly. Loki stepped back, allowing Saija to move ahead. “What do we need to go in?” she asked.

“This way.” Fenya crossed over to a corner of the room, a safe distance away from the patients, and opened a cabinet, where she produced protective coverings that the healers could put on. Loki did not wish to approach any of the people. He glanced at Heimdall, who’d started to follow the healers. “I don’t think I’m much use here,” Loki said, gesturing vaguely toward the healers. “I’m just going to …”

Heimdall nodded. “I understand,” he said. “I will remain, but you may go, if you wish.”

Loki did not thank him. He just took his leave, suddenly wanting to put as much distance between himself and this hospital as possible. He didn’t know why being in that building felt so oppressive to him, suddenly, but he felt like he couldn’t breathe until he was outside again. Once he was past the door, he stopped, pressing a hand against the wall to balance himself while he took deep breath after deep breath.

When he felt like he could walk steadily again, he pushed away from the wall and made his way back to the stronghold, passing Thor and Valkyrie still in the training yard as he headed for the main house. Loki lingered on the edge of the field, watching them for a few minutes. They were about equally matched in strength – it was impossible to tell who was stronger, and it seemed they both knew it from the way they maneuvered around each other, neither relying more on sheer brawn than necessary. Valkyrie, being smaller, had the advantage of a flexibility and agility that Thor, while capable, could not quite match. On the other hand, Thor’s size and dexterity lent itself to quick blows and swift moves that seemed to catch Valkyrie off-guard once or twice. Yet each time Thor gained the upper hand, it seemed to spur a fervor in Valkyrie, and she wasted no time in getting it back. Loki watched as Valkyrie hooked a leg under Thor's knee, toppling him backwards into the grass. Thor lay there for a moment, letting out a sound like a groan mixed with a laugh. Valkyrie hopped on top of him, pressing a hand into his throat; her expression was nothing short of gleeful, even as in the next second, Thor - aided with a burst of electricity - threw her off of him. She landed a few feet away and shouted something vulgar while Thor, chuckling, got to his feet. 

Something about all of it made Loki feel slightly ill. He did not know why he was bothering to even watch. But he stood rooted to the spot and, after a few moments, the training ground, Valkyrie, and Thor faded away, replaced by the sparring field on Asgard, Sif, Fandral, and a younger version of Thor. Loki was there, too; he almost did not recognize himself, so different had he looked. He was smaller, his hair much shorter, his face wide open and not yet marred by deceit and tragedy. While Fandral and Thor sparred, Loki was laughing at something Sif had said to him as she swung her sword back and forth – it was new, Loki suddenly remembered, and she was still familiarizing herself with the way its weight felt in her hands.

Fandral yelled across the field at them, and both Loki and Sif looked up; for some reason, all of the sound was muffled and Loki did not know what was actually being said, but Fandral’s expression was strangely mischievous as he approached them. The smile faded from Loki’s face and Sif blushed, taking a slight step away from him. Thor approached behind Fandral and he was smiling, but not the same way that Fandral was. Thor looked as if he thought they were all enjoying the same laugh, while Fandral meant to mock. Loki watched as his younger self frowned, saying something back – Thor and Sif giggled, while Fandral scowled. He unsheathed his sword and pointed it at Loki, mouth moving; Loki stared back at him coolly and then conjured a pair of daggers, accepting whatever challenge Fandral had put forth.

“Loki!” Thor’s voice suddenly cut through the stifled air and the vision was gone. Loki blinked, startled out of his daze, and realized that Thor and Valkyrie were both staring at him. He wondered how many times Thor had called out to him. Judging from the look on Thor’s face, it was more than once.

Loki found his voice. “What?”

“What are you doing?” Thor jogged over, closing the bit of space between them. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Maybe he had. Loki had no idea why that particular memory had sprung up, but for a few moments, it had been as clear as his own reflection in the mirror. Fandral had been making fun of Loki for flirting with Sif, he suddenly recalled, and Sif had been embarrassed, stepping away from Loki as if to make it clear that any flirting going on was not on her part. For that matter, Loki hadn’t meant to flirt. He just remembered enjoying Sif’s undivided attention for a few minutes, to be a part of a conversation with her that had not included Thor. The burn of anger and embarrassment at Fandral’s insinuations and Sif’s response washed over him for a moment of hot recollection, and then faded again. The memory retreated into the recesses of his mind, turning dark and blurry.

“I just – I got distracted. Sorry.” Loki shook his head as if to clear it. He reached for the memory again, but like a dream that faded too fast, it was already beyond his reach. Only the _emotions_ remained – inferiority, defensiveness, a burning need to prove himself even while knowing that it was fruitless, that he would never succeed. The emotions persisted with a fervor, almost overwhelming him with their intensity. They made him want to disappear.

“How was the hospital?” Valkyrie asked, joining them.

Loki glanced at her. “Oh, uh – well, the people appear to be as ill as the queen said. More so, maybe. The healers stayed to examine the patients. Heimdall’s there. I wasn’t much use.” The last bit was directed at Thor, as if to explain why he was back so soon, though Loki reminded himself that he did not need to explain himself to his brother.

“Oh. Okay.” Thor was still looking at him strangely. “Are you all right, brother?”

Valkyrie was now staring at him oddly, too. Maybe it was concern on both of their parts, but Loki felt a peculiar urge to shrink away from the scrutiny. _I am not okay,_ he wanted to shout. _More and more, I am plagued with memories I can’t control and feelings I do not understand; I have to get away, I am going mad in this position I now hold, you drive me mad, brother, and you do it on purpose to mock me._

_I do not know what to do._

“I’m fine,” Loki said.


	13. XIII.

 

**XIII.**

The house was empty except for Bruce and Dagny. The child was sitting on the floor in the living room, playing jacks, while Bruce wandered in circles, occasionally stepping over her game as if she was not there at all. He was looking at one of the books from the bookshelf – Loki realized that it was the history book he’d left on the coffee table that morning. Bruce was thumbing through it with frustration, muttering to himself. Loki stood there for a moment, watching him, before he exhaled a loud breath. “Trying to write your next dissertation?” he asked.

“Trying, being the operative word.” Bruce barely glanced up. “I can’t imagine the wealth of knowledge in even one of these books – can’t imagine it because I can’t _read_ it.”

“Oh.” Loki remembered that the previous night, when he’d picked up the book, he’d not been able to read the Deaphan alphabet, either, but he’d simply enchanted the book into Asgardian runes. He’d forgotten to lift the enchantment but that mattered not – Bruce wouldn’t be able to read it either way. Loki tilted his head, regarding Bruce’s frustration for a moment before he sighed and moved over to him. The other man took a step back, as if he expected Loki to reach out and strike him. Loki simply held out a hand and, when Bruce stared at him blankly, gestured impatiently. “Hand me the book.”

Bruce still looked wary, but he did as Loki asked. Loki pressed his palm to the cover, focusing on what he remembered of the written language of Midgard. A golden shimmer swept over the book; then, Loki handed it back. “There. Have fun,” he said simply.

“Oh – hey, thanks,” Bruce stammered. He was thumbing through the book again, but all of his frustration was gone, replaced instead with thrilled curiosity. So quaint, Loki thought as he headed toward the stairs, planning to close himself in his room.

“Do you want to play jacks, Lackey?” Dagny suddenly asked after him. She had been so quiet that Loki had forgotten she was there, but at her words, his hackles went back up.

“My name is _Loki_ ,” he growled, shooting her a glare that made her eyes widen. She visibly recoiled.

“Hey - she’s just a kid,” Bruce said.

“I don’t care.” Mood once again sour, Loki held Dagny’s gaze for a few seconds longer, just long enough to make his point. When he was certain that she would not ever dare call him that insipid nickname again, he turned away, disappearing up the stairs and into his and Thor’s room. He dropped down onto his bed, slinging an arm over his eyes as he breathed in and out, concentrating on holding each inhale for exactly five seconds before letting it out again. Already, the flush of anger was starting to fade, leaving him with the faintest feeling of guilt. Bruce was right – Dagny was only a child, mimicking what she’d heard the Valkyrie call him, and probably did not deserve Loki’s ire.

Loki was beginning to feel more and more unbalanced, his moods as mercurial as when he’d started to come undone after learning the truth of his origins. He thought of the Tesseract, how easily he could conjure it up and use it to take his leave – Otherworld was not far from Deaphus, all he had to do was map out the route. Already, his mind’s eye was focusing on the shimmering blue cube, the beauty of it rushing over him like a balm. His ace in the hole. If he used it right then, he would not have to waste time convincing Thor to accept Loki’s decision to leave – he would simply be _gone,_ and Thor could not reach him. Thor would be free to focus on ruling the people, Valkyrie at his side; he’d miss Loki, perhaps, but he would see that it was the best option for everyone.

_Fool. Do you think the Tesseract is your plaything? That there will be no consequences?_

The hiss was _not_ of his own mind. Loki flinched, drawing in a sharp breath. “Get out,” he whispered, squeezing his eyes shut so tightly behind his arm that he saw spots. The hum of unintelligible murmurs grew from the back of his mind, buzzing incessantly until he could hear nothing else.

There was the sound of laughter, low and hoarse, taunting. _Your debt is yet unpaid._ Light danced behind his eyes, images pouring over him like ice water, drenching his memory in the anguish of all he’d endured at the hands of the Titan. He felt the heat of flames dancing on his skin, the sharp fury of blades shoved through muscle and tendon, the blood, so much blood –

Loki was trembling. As agonizing as it was, the physical torture was nothing compared to what the Titan was truly capable of. _The Tesseract._ In his possession once again, away from the safety of Odin’s vault, had it awoken his mental connection to the Titan? Had Loki been drawing the threat closer and closer, sending a flashing beacon across the Void?

Could the Titan find him again?

Of course he could. The Titan would never forget him or his failure; eventually, he would come to collect. How had Loki been so short-sighted – so _stupid_ \- as to believe anything else?

_He will make you long for something as sweet as pain._

A memory, or a reminder? His entire body was shaking, his breathing hitched. Loki’s heart thudded so loudly in his ears that it was hard to make out anything else; the echo of it physically hurt. He wanted to cry, but Thor chose precisely that moment to walk into the room. Loki’s breath came in a strangled gasp; he did not move his arm from his eyes, did not give any indication he was aware of Thor’s heavy trod. “Hey,” Thor said, sounding a bit uncertain. “You okay?”

“Just – just trying to rest.” Loki tried to sound biting, but his voice shook terribly, and all the magic in the world could not have stopped it.

“Hmm.” Loki heard Thor sit down on his own bed. “You know … if you need to talk …”

 _Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in._ Loki didn’t reply.

“I’m worried about you, Loki,” Thor went on.

“I told you I’m fine.” _Breathe. Breathe. Breathe_.

“I don’t believe you.”

Loki did not dignify that with a response. He listened to his own ragged breathing, hating Thor for bearing witness to it; he had to get ahold of himself, if for no other reason than he refused to break down in front of an audience, even his own brother. “Can you leave?” he heard himself snap, but his voice lacked real venom.

“No,” Thor said simply. Loki felt rather than heard Thor moving, getting up from his bed and sitting down on the floor beside Loki’s. He did not reach out and touch Loki, and Loki would have jerked away if he had, yet his presence alone somehow acted as a salve. As much as Loki hated Thor being there, he _needed_ Thor to be there – the need for his brother was so great, in those moments, that tears sprang to his eyes. He was grateful that his arm shielded his face from view.

He didn’t know how much time passed. When Loki’s heartbeat had slowed and his breathing evened out a bit, Thor finally spoke. “Talk to me, brother.”

“I’m fine,” Loki said again, and this time, he sounded more convincing. More like himself. He finally lowered his arm, his vision swimming for a moment before it cleared.

“Normally you are a good liar,” Thor responded, “but you’re not even trying right now. Come on, Loki. Clearly you are not fine. Why must you always resist my help?”

“Because I don’t need it,” Loki bit out, and the venom he’d lacked before now came out in full force. He dragged himself to his feet, swaying dizzily for just a moment before he grasped the bedpost and righted himself.

Thor closed his eyes, exhaling loudly through his nose. “We are going in circles,” he said. He changed tacks. “Bruce said you bit that poor girl’s head off over a nickname. Right after you did him the courtesy of enchanting a book so he could read it.”

“So?”

“So … what happened there?”

Loki’s shoulders rose and fell. He went over to the window, folding his arms over his chest. “I didn’t feel like listening to Bruce complain for hours about all the knowledge beyond his grasp. It was a favor for myself, not for him.”

“And Dagny?” Thor quirked an eyebrow.

Loki sighed. “Valkyrie calls me Lackey incessantly,” he said. “That’s irritating enough, but I will not be mocked by a child, too.”

Thor snorted a laugh. “Why does she call you Lackey?”

“How should I know?” Loki clasped and unclasped his fingers. “Ask her. She’s _your_ lover.”

“No, she isn’t.” Thor rolled his eyes. “It is possible for men and women to simply be friends, you know. Truthfully, Loki, I think she’s more keen on _you_.”

It was Loki’s turn to snort. “When has a woman _ever_ preferred me over you?” he shot back.

“Several times. You just never noticed,” Thor replied easily. He leaned his head back against Loki’s mattress, closing his eye, folding his arms loosely over his abdomen. It was strange how comfortable he looked, he who was King of Asgard, lounging around on the floor like a schoolchild. “Sometimes Val looks at you like … I don’t know, like she sees something kindred in you,” Thor continued.  “She has a good heart, but circumstance and tragedy have left her misguided. She reminds me of you, in that way. No offense,” he added, not even needing to open his eye to sense Loki opening his mouth for a very-much-offended rebuttal.

A muscle in Loki’s jaw moved. He didn’t know which was more offensive – that Thor believed Valkyrie would ever prefer Loki, or that Thor believed Loki had a good heart, even after he had been shown time and time again that wasn’t the case. He dug his right thumbnail into his left palm, focusing for a moment on how it stung. “If she _does_ prefer me,” he heard himself say, “then she’s just as dumb as you are, and it’s a shame she is _not_ your lover. You’d be perfect for one another.”

Thor did open his eye then, looking up at Loki with something like frustration. “Why do you always do that?” he asked. 

“Do what?”

“Try to make yourself feel better by making those around you feel small. Despite what you think, I am actually _not_ an idiot – and neither is Valkyrie, for that matter. But that’s not even the point.” Thor blew out his breath. “Why is your first response to assume that there must be something wrong with those who see value in you?”

“Because I have no value.” The words spilled from Loki’s lips faster than he could stop them; his mind had not even fully formed them before they were out, hanging in the air between them.

“Surely you don’t truly believe that.” Thor straightened, drawing his knees up slightly.

To his credit, Loki did not call Thor dumb again, but he might as well have, for the look he shot his brother.

“Loki.” Thor looked as if he were going to get up, and then seemed to think better of it. His shoulders slumped, sadness falling across his face like a shadow. A moment later, it was gone, replaced by anger. “How can you possibly think that?”

No one had exactly gone out of their way to dissuade him of that thought process, Loki thought. He looked away from Thor, back out the window; the sun burned brightly in the sky, the day not even a quarter finished. He turned away and went to sit on Thor’s bed, still pressing his fingernail into his palm. He noticed he was drawing blood, but ignored it. “How could I not? You say you are not an idiot, brother, but you ask questions you should already be able to answer. Since the day Odin carried me off of that godforsaken frozen rock, my value was measured only by what I could do for others.”

He finally let go of his palm and looked down at the crimson staining his skin. Absently, he rubbed at it with the pad of his thumb. “Laufey cast me out for being small, weak, frail – no use as a Frost Giant, no use as a son. Odin took me in in the hopes of bartering peace between our worlds; he saw not a son, but a _bargaining_ _chip_. My entire life …” Loki let out a harsh laugh. “For Norns’ sake, Thor, even _you_ were content to lock me up until you had use of me.”

“Only in retribution for your crimes against Midgard,” Thor protested hotly. “Don’t turn this around on me, brother. I have tried to show you time and time again how I value you. When I thought you dead - ”

“Yes, I know,” Loki interrupted impatiently. “You mourned, you cried. But when have you ever just _spoken_ to me as your equal? And what of those crimes on Midgard? Valkyrie told me you believed I was not in my right mind then, but did you ever ask me if that was true? Did you ever think to ask _why_ I was on Earth?”

Thor got to his feet, his jaw tight. “Because you were obsessed with power,” he answered, pacing in front of Loki. “Because you wanted to be king.”

“I told you once, I never wanted the throne,” Loki said tiredly. “You didn’t listen, I suppose.”

“Fine. You’re right.” Thor clasped his hands together at the back of his head, exasperated. “I did not listen to you. I did not _understand_ you. I still don’t. Perhaps I am just the worst brother you could have possibly ended up with. I may not be as perceptive as you, Loki, nor as self-righteously tormented, but my love for you has never been a lie. Can you honestly say the same about me?”

Loki recoiled as if he’d been slapped, but not because of Thor’s words – not directly, anyway. Instead, he suddenly recalled the last thing his mother had ever said to him. _Always so perceptive,_ she’d said in a voice tinged with melancholy, _about everyone but yourself._ Loki had meant to ask her what she meant – what did he not perceive, what was he missing, what was _wrong_ with him – but when he’d reached out to touch her, her projection had shimmered and faded away. She had never returned.

Tears sprang to his eyes as the thought of Frigga brought back his dream from the previous night. So close she had been, yet still so far out of reach. Yet even she had stressed upon him the need to stay with Thor, for they were all the other had left of their fractured, duplicitous, flawed little family. And here was Thor, claiming his love – and Loki knew, deep down, that it was _not_ a lie, because even when he and Thor had been on their furthest outs, each so angry and hateful toward the other that it should have suffocated them both, there was still love that bound them together.

The opposite of love was not hate, it was ambivalence – and was that not why Loki panicked when Thor had finally seemed to give up on him, back in that elevator on Sakaar? If Thor showed him ambivalence, if he was nonchalant about Loki’s betrayal and indifferent toward never seeing his brother again, leaving him to electrocute on a dirty garage floor – _that_ was the one thing Loki could not endure. For better or for worse, Thor’s love was the only anchor Loki had left. The threat of losing it had sent Loki scrambling back to Asgard, to his brother and to his people. He was pride and arrogance personified– _Your Savior is here!_ – but he’d taken such grandiose measures to disguise the desperation underneath – _please don’t leave me, look, I’m here to help, I can do the right thing, brother, please don’t give up on me, I can’t bear to lose you, too._

Thor was staring at him, his brow furrowed as if he could read Loki’s thoughts – as if they were not written clearly on Loki’s face for the world to see. He swallowed hard and turned away, squeezing his eyes shut, pressing his palms to his temples. A sound like a strangled sob broke from his throat, followed by an audibly shaking sigh.

“Are you all right?” Thor asked quietly. Loki felt Thor’s hesitation as he reached out, laying a hand on Loki’s shoulder. Loki did not shrug it off. Instead, he just shook his head, back and forth.

“No,” he heard himself admit in a whisper. “I am not all right, brother.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we're about at the halfway point of the length I've planned this fic to be, although it's not out of the realm of possibility that the total chapter count may change. Either that, or the remaining chapters will be getting longer. At this point, Loki is figuring out that, basically, the Tesseract is exacerbating his PTSD from his time in the Sanctuary and the events on Midgard. I recognize that Loki is smart enough to have reached this rather obvious conclusion much sooner, but the events of Ragnarok (being outed as Odin, his time on Sakaar, reconciling - kind of - with Thor, triggering the apocalypse and watching Asgard get blown to bits) have thrown him for a bit of a loop, and he's not thinking as clearly as he normally would be. So I just wanted to put that out there. 
> 
> Also, I have been focusing the first half of the fic largely toward character development - trying to establish the characters' personalities and how they interact with one another - while the second half of the fic will see more plot movement (and shipping, yay!). My goal is to finish this before Infinity War comes out, because I just have the feeling that the movie will destroy me and I'll be in no condition to write, so updates should be occurring pretty quickly, barring any acts of God that may prevent them. And that's about all the babbling from me. Also, comments make my day, so don't be shy if you feel like leaving one. :) <3 
> 
> (Also if anyone wants to be tumblr friends, I'm hanging out here: http://iamanartichoke.tumblr.com/.)


	14. XIV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Loki sings like a canary, kind of. Also, I imagine Deaphus as kind of on par with Victorian-era England, in terms of style and everyday technology, but with space ships and stuff ... because reasons. (Really, I'm just a fan of that period in history, so I thought, why not?)

 

**XIV.**

Thor suggested that they go for a walk. Loki did not particularly feel like walking anywhere, but Thor reminded him that a big part of the reason they’d taken this furlough was for the chance to stretch their legs and get some fresh air. The only other option, it seemed, was to be stuck in the room they shared, because once Loki had cracked and admitted that something was very wrong with him, Thor showed no intention of leaving him alone. Loki was already starting to regret opening up – if that was, indeed, what it could be called.

“We’ll go into town,” Thor said brightly. “Familiarize ourselves with this world.”

“All right,” Loki agreed reluctantly. They headed downstairs, where Bruce had now spread the enchanted history book and his papers across the coffee table. He perched on the edge of the sofa, going back and forth between the book and his notes. Loki noticed he was wrapped not only in his cloak, but a blanket as well, and he wondered just how cold this world must have felt to a human – or even to an Asgardian. Loki naturally had a much higher tolerance for the cold; even the freezing temperatures of Jotunheim had not bothered him. Here, the temperature was like the skim of a butterfly’s wings against his skin, a sensation he was momentarily aware of and then had forgotten just as quickly.

At the other end of the sofa, Valkyrie sat with Dagny. She had removed the girl’s plaits and was now running a comb through the rippling blonde locks, while Dagny thumbed through a book of her own. It looked like a child’s book, so it must have been in her possession before they left Asgard. Valkyrie looked up at them and glared at Loki, the irritation behind it strong enough to make Loki feel a fresh wave of guilt. He should have apologized to the child, he knew, but he was not willing to do so in front of everyone, lest he return all of their attention to how horrible he was. Dagny kept her eyes trained firmly on the pages of her book, not willing to look up at Loki at all.

Thor cleared his throat. “We’re going out for a bit,” he told them. “If you need me …”

“We know how to contact you,” Valkyrie said. She scowled at Loki once more before returning her attention to Dagny’s hair. 

“Oh yes, she’s _very_ keen on me,” Loki couldn’t help whispering to Thor as they slipped out of the house.

“We’ll have to work on your lady skills,” Thor murmured back with a grin.

It was not a far walk from the stronghold into the main city of Kallais. For awhile, Loki and Thor walked in companionable silence. Loki kept glancing warily at Thor, waiting for him to start a conversation, but Thor was seemingly lost in his own thoughts. Loki noticed that Thor didn’t seem to know what to do with his hands; sometimes, they swung at his sides, while other times he clasped his fingers together and still others he tried to slide them into pockets he didn’t have.

“You’ll need a new weapon,” Loki finally said.

“What?”

Loki nodded toward Thor’s hands, which were now playing with the hem of his shirt. “You’ve still not gotten used to the loss of Mjolnir.”

“Oh.” Thor glanced down at his hands and let go of his shirt. He blew out his breath and gave Loki a sheepish smile. “That obvious, huh?”

“It’s like you’ve lost a limb. Perhaps, it’s a blessing in disguise. Now that you are king, you’ll need to choose a queen, and no woman could have competed with the dedication and affection you clearly felt for your hammer.”

For a moment, Thor looked offended - then, abruptly, he laughed. “Oh, Loki. I’ve missed your verbal jabs.”

Loki hummed in acknowledgement. “You do make it so easy, brother.”

Thor just laughed again.

The path that had led them away from the stronghold and into town was widening, branching off into several cobbled streets and roadways as the city began opening up around them. In a way, it reminded Loki of Midgard. Not Midgard as it was today, but a time long past. There were residential dwellings and people meandering from one destination to the next - open markets and clothing shops and pubs lined the streets. Everyone had somewhere to be, something to do, and seemed very unconcerned with Thor and Loki walking in their midst, though the two did stand out like they did on Midgard when in their Asgardian attire. Here, the style of dress was simple, but not quite plain – men wore trousers, shirts, and coats in varying shades of black, navy blue, brown, and beige. The women wore full, floor-length dresses in a wider variety of colors, adorned with patterns and designs. They seemed to enjoy accessories, adding hats, jewelry, and brooches, while the men wore cravats, carried canes, or pulled out pocket watches to check the time.

When Loki was younger and figuring out world walking, he’d traveled to Midgard many times. He’d been most interested in it because it was the only world in the Nine Realms that developed and changed drastically in such short time spans; the other Realms, like Asgard, always remained more or less the same. He attributed it to the humans’ short lives – there was a sense of urgency on Midgard that Loki had not encountered anywhere else, a desperate need the humans had to leave their mark on the world before they left it. Fashion, culture, food, music – the changes were numerous and swift, and Loki liked not knowing what sort of world he would find when he made his next trip.

In his reading the previous night, Loki had learned that Deaphans did not live nearly as long as Asgardians, but they did far outlive humans, their average lifespan maybe fifteen hundred years. Loki suspected that the furious pursuit of cultural evolution was a uniquely Midgardian trait, and that, unlike Midgard, if he came to Deaphus two hundred years ago or a thousand years from now, the world would very much look the same.

“You look pensive,” Thor observed.

Loki nodded. “I was just thinking,” he responded, “that this place reminds me of Midgard a few hundred years ago.”

Thor looked over at him, eyebrows raised. “How would you know?”

“Do you think I’d never been to Midgard before New York?” Loki shook his head. “Mother taught me how to walk the hidden pathways between worlds quite a long time ago. I practiced with Midgard many times.”

“Really?” Thor looked slightly intrigued. “I thought you held nothing but contempt for Midgard.”

“Contempt is not the right word,” Loki replied. “I was very interested, once, in how rapidly their world changed, how vastly one generation could differ from the next. I thought it a conundrum that they could advance so far in culture yet remain so woefully antiquated in science, but they just don't know any better. I pity the humans that. In the grand scope of the Universe, Midgard is rather insignificant, but that does not mean it is not intriguing in its own little way.”

Thor tilted his head, considering this. “I didn’t realize you felt that way.”

“You never asked.”

“No, I didn’t.” Thor rubbed the back of his neck, giving Loki a sideways glance. “Nor did you offer the information.”

“Why would I?” Loki fiddled with his hands, picking at a fingernail. “It’s not the sort of thing you and I would talk about.” Even before they’d been fractured down the center, Thor and Loki’s relationship, while close, had revolved around Thor’s interests, Thor’s friends, Thor’s future. He’d never expressed much of an interest in anything Loki did, especially not Loki’s magic, and Loki had set aside his own hobbies, time and time again, to try and better fit in with Thor.

Thor looked uncomfortable, but picked up on the subtle opening. “So you don’t hate Midgard,” he said. “But you tried to invade and rule, without regard of lives lost. Why?”

Loki had known this was coming, but now that the question hung aloud in the air between them, he could not figure out how to answer. They were passing a fruit stand and Loki slowed, skimming over oranges, grapefruits, and some strange yellow-purple fruit Loki had never seen before. The vendor eyed him but did not approach; Loki could see a few coins sitting on the table near the vendor’s profit bag and committed the design to memory for later use. “I made a deal,” he said finally, stepping away from the stand.

“With who?”

“With –“ Loki broke off. It was one thing to recall the Titan in flashbacks and nightmares, in the privacy of his own mind (privacy being relative, of course), but saying his name out loud was impossible. Even the _idea_ of breathing the words _the Titan_ made Loki’s heart slam against his ribcage, as if just uttering the title would make him appear. He suspected, now, that he’d been calling to the Titan all along with the Tesseract, but he would not speed up the inevitable clash, if he could help it. “With someone far more powerful than you could imagine,” he finished. His voice quavered and he cleared his throat. “After – um, after what happened on the Bifrost, I ended up … in his _employ,_ if you will. I struck a deal of self-preservation.”

Thor roughly scuffed his boot along the path. “Self-preservation,” he repeated quietly. He swallowed hard. “What did they do to you, Loki?”

What _hadn’t_ they done would be a more appropriate question. Visions snapped through his memory of blood and sweat and screams; Loki felt the pulsing pressure on his mind, the Titan twisting and manipulating and playing with what he found there. His palms felt clammy and he opened and closed them a few times, aware of Thor’s eye on him but unable to meet it. Realization seemed to dawn within Thor. “Your nightmares,” he said, tilting his head at Loki. “Whatever they did to you, that’s why you have them, isn’t it?”

Loki gave a barely perceptible nod. He focused on the sidewalk, counting each miniscule crack and bump to give his mind tedious occupation until he felt he could speak again. “They – _he_ – had aspirations for which he needed a vessel. A puppet.”

“You have never in your life been a puppet, Loki.”

“You wouldn’t think so,” Loki agreed, “but at the time, my mind was very vulnerable and ripe for molding.” How _easy_ it had been for the Titan; the truth of Loki’s heritage, the events of his disastrous reign had destroyed Loki, his fall had traumatized him further, and he’d dropped from the sky in prime condition to be manipulated for a greater purpose. _Glorious_ purpose. He who had been thrown away, cast out and exiled, had been given new life. He had been promised a kingdom, after being twisted into believing it was what he truly desired. The physical torture had always been intended to break him, to make him cry out in submission to make the pain stop, but the Titan had never seemed to realize that Loki was _already_ broken, and it mattered not what they did – in the end, Loki never stood a chance.

Thor took his time in responding. “So, what are you saying?” he asked. “That you were being mind-controlled?”

“No. Not controlled. Influenced.”

“What’s the difference?”

Loki chewed on his lip, considering his answer. “Mind control is exactly what it sounds like. Your free will is stripped from you and you have no choice but to obey what is commanded of you. The Scepter was infused with that ability … Barton and Selvig were acting on behalf of what I _made_ them do. But influence …” Loki trailed off. They were rounding a corner, and he stopped walking, choosing instead to turn and observe what looked like a haberdashery shop. Loki looked at the display in the window without really seeing it.

“Being influenced is a much more _intimate_ form of domination,” he finally said. “It is like your mind is made of soil and seeds are planted and watered and allowed to grow, to take on a life of their own. Your own emotions do the watering. And like planting a garden, most of the blossoming takes place without your notice. One day you realize that what was once a bud has sprouted into a flower, as naturally as if it had been there all along.”

He caught Thor’s reflection in the glass of the window. Thor’s brow was furrowed, but not in confusion – it was more like worry, maybe, the weight of Loki’s words hitting hard. Loki cleared his throat. “To put it simply, when you are being controlled, you automatically comply. When you are influenced, you believe you _want_ to comply. You believe your thoughts and impulses are your _own_ , and they make absolute perfect sense.” Both, Loki supposed, were rather traumatic, but influence was much harder to break free from.

“Anyway.” Loki turned away from the window and forced himself to meet Thor’s gaze head on. “In my case, the seeds easily took root. Then he gave me the Scepter, with its powerful abilities, and together … the result can only be called madness.”

Thor looked like he’d had the wind knocked out of him. His face had visibly drained of color. “Why didn’t you ever tell me this?” he asked in a hollow whisper. “I had no idea … I did not know such a thing was even possible.”

Loki just shrugged. He doubted Thor would have believed him even if Loki had ever had the inclination to talk about it.

Thor found his voice after several minutes. They fell into step again, side by side. “So, when you … after the Bifrost, you ended up with this – this puppet master, who planted seeds of power and glory in your mind and sent you to do his bidding. To what end? What did you bargain for?”

“For the Tesseract, of course.”

“Of course, but what use did he have of it? Why did he want it so badly?”

“Why wouldn’t he?” Loki countered. “It’s an Infinity stone. He meant to collect all of the stones, though his ultimate plan once he got them was unknown to me.”

Something passed over Thor’s face that Loki couldn’t read, an expression that was gone again in an instant. “This person, this being who influenced you – he is still out there?”

Loki nodded, folding his arms tightly. “It’s possible he influences me still.”

Thor’s face got even paler. “Why would you think that?”

Loki braced himself for the inevitable outburst. “Because I still have the Tesseract.”

“You still - ” A storm of emotions crossed Thor’s features – shock, followed by outrage, and then fear, before finally settling on exasperation. “For Norns’ sake, Loki! How long have you had it?”

His voice boomed, betraying his anger; rather than shrinking away, Loki drew himself up to his full height, back straight. “Since Ragnarok,” he replied evenly. “Didn’t you ever wonder how I got out of the Vault before Surtur emerged from the Flame?”

“I -” Thor broke off, and then shook his head. “I figured your magic was involved. I guess I didn’t think too closely on it.”

“Mm.” That was not a surprise. But Loki could not really blame Thor; using it to escape the Vault had been a benefit, but he could not pretend it was _why_ he’d taken the Tesseract. “Look, I couldn’t leave it there. It’s too powerful to be destroyed, even by Surtur. It would have been lost to the Void, calling out to – to _him_ , and trust me, brother, getting his hands on any Infinity stone brings him that much closer to darkening the stars with _all_ of our blood.”

Loki didn’t know when they had stopped walking again, but at some point they had turned to face each other. Electricity was dancing along Thor’s knuckles while he clenched and unclenched his fists; frustration radiated off of him in waves and, somewhere in the distance, Loki heard the rumble of thunder. “Even if you had valid reason to take it,” Thor finally got out, “why didn’t you tell me from the start?”

A grim smile curved Loki’s lips. If Thor was angry _now_ … “I wanted to keep it to myself,” he admitted, “in case I decided to use it to leave.”

As if on cue, the sky lit up in a brilliant blue-white flash of lightning, followed by an enormous roll of thunder that made several people milling in the street around them jump and look up into sky in alarm. “I didn’t think it was supposed to storm today,” some passerby commented.

“Damnedest thing,” his companion replied.

Loki and Thor stared at one another, Loki’s heart thudding in his ears. “So you have had your escape route all planned out,” Thor uttered, “by taking the Tesseract, which somehow binds you to this evil being, leaving your mind wide open to whatever he wants to put there?”

“Well.” Loki tilted his head, and then shrugged. “Yes. More or less.”

“Did it not occur to you,” he continued, “that by holding onto the Tesseract, knowing its connection to – I wish you’d tell me his _name_ , Loki – this being, put all of our lives at risk? The people of Asgard, who’ve lost so much? Bruce, Valkyrie, _Dagny_? Did you not anticipate that we’d escape only to be slaughtered later, when your _employer_ saw fit to reclaim his prize?”

Loki did not reply. He was absolutely loath to admit it, but he had _not_ considered this. Not really. He, Loki, who was normally three plans and five steps ahead of everyone else, had cloaked the Tesseract and tucked it away and naively believed it _enough_ , that it was as safe in his interdimensional pocket as it was in Odin’s Vault. He had been distracted and out of his element and he just plain hadn’t been thinking. He, who knew better than anyone what the Titan was capable of, had made a _grave_ error in judgement, and the shame of it burned him from the inside out. If the Titan did catch up with them, the remaining Asgardians’ blood would be on Loki’s hands alone.

He suddenly felt like he was going to retch. Everything spun around him and he bent over, resting his palms on his knees as he struggled to catch his breath. Thor was still speaking, but Loki no longer heard him; his voice had faded into a dull hum at the back of Loki’s mind. He focused only on keeping the bile down, willing himself to still the churning in his stomach. His vision blurred and grew dark, spots dancing in front of his eyes.

“Loki,” Thor said, still sounding very far away. Loki felt the weight of Thor’s hand on his back.

“I’m sorry,” Loki got out. “I wasn’t thinking.”

Thor sighed. He rubbed Loki’s back for just a moment before letting go. “Well, what’s done is done,” he said, sounding resigned. “We just have to figure out what to do about it now.”

Loki knew what to do about it, and with any luck, Thor was angry enough that he would allow it. “This was my mistake,” he managed, and forced himself to stand up straight again. “I’ll be the one to repair it. I will take the Tesseract far away from Asgard’s people, so that they are out of harm’s reach.”

“And where will you take it?” Thor challenged. “You think I’m just going to let you wander off into the cosmos, alone and with a giant target on your back? Nice try, Loki. But no. I’m afraid, for better or worse, we’re in this together now.”


	15. XV.

 

**XV.**

It took several minutes for Loki’s nausea to fade. By the time he felt steady enough to walk again, Thor’s anger had retreated, replaced by an irritated resignation. But though he was not pleased with Loki, there was a lingering worry etched into his face, deepening whenever he looked at his brother. Loki pretended not to notice.

He kept his head lowered as they walked back toward the stronghold, Loki having had his fill of the city and Thor claiming hunger. Thor seemed content to do most of the talking; for some reason, he was babbling about someplace on Midgard called Sokovia. All Loki remembered was Heimdall telling them that whatever happened in Sokovia had caused a rift in the Avengers, but as Thor recounted their adventure there two years prior, he either did not notice or ignored that Loki couldn’t have cared less. He was still mentally berating himself for such a colossal mistake. For four years, the Tesseract had sat protected in Odin’s Vault; even using it to repair the Bifrost had not drawn the Titan’s wrath upon them. It had lulled Loki into a false sense of security that he knew better than to have trusted, but trust it he let himself, and now he was paying for it.

“Loki, are you even listening?” Thor asked.

Loki blinked. He glanced at his brother. “Of course I am,” he lied.

“I’m trying to tell you something important,” Thor told him with a frown. “These Infinity stones – you said that your evil being is trying to collect them all.”

“I also said I don’t know why,” Loki returned. “So don’t bother asking.”

“I wasn’t _going_ to.” Thor’s frustration bled into his voice. “I wondered if you knew how many there are out there, or any idea of where the others might be.”

Loki shrugged. “He said once that there are six. I have the Tesseract. When I …” He slid a sideways glance at Thor, and exhaled. “When I took the throne, after Svartalfheim, I sent the Aether to a man called the Collector. It would have been unwise to keep two Infinity stones in the Vault.”

“And you know for certain that the Aether got to this Collector?” Thor did not comment on Loki’s usurping of the throne, though he did bristle a bit at the words.

“Sif and Volstagg personally delivered it.”

Thor hummed in acknowledgement. A beat passed, Thor’s shoulders slumping nearly imperceptibly at the reminder of his friends, but he pushed past it and a moment later spoke again. “What of the other stones?”

They were drawing out of the city, the path leading to the stronghold stretching out ahead of them. Loki sighed, feeling more and more drained by the moment. “Why do you think I would know?”

Thor just looked at him.

“Fine,” Loki grumbled. “The Scepter was powered by the Mind stone, but I know not what became of it after I was so graciously escorted off of Midgard.”

“I _knew_ you weren’t listening,” Thor exclaimed. “I just told you, we uncovered the Scepter in Sokovia. Hydra was using it to experiment on humans, trying to create genetic enhancements so that they could give more humans abilities.”

Loki stopped in his tracks. He truly had not been listening, because he had no idea how that little tidbit of information had not caught his notice. “ _What?_ ”

“Hydra was - ”

“Even if I knew who Hydra was,” Loki cut him off, “I don’t need you to repeat yourself. Just clarify – you’re saying that the humans used that thing to give others abilities?”

“Tried to.” Thor kicked at a pebble along the path. “Hydra – not that you care – is a group of scientists who seek human evolution through whatever means necessary because they crave power. It was they who first began using the Tesseract to build weapons several decades ago. When we tracked down the Scepter, we discovered that Hydra’s leader was trying to replicate the formula that gave Steve Rogers his abilities, so that he could create an enhanced army.”

Loki’s nausea returned. Every time he thought he could not hear anything that would further prove humanity as stupid as the rest of the Universe believed, he was wrong. Loki may have made mistakes from time to time, but at least he’d never been so foolish as to tamper with artifacts he could not hope to understand. Humans looked at the Tesseract and the Scepter and they understood the _potential_ for power, but they overestimated their own ability to comprehend it. They experimented and played with forces beyond their control, and then lifted their hands and acted baffled when faced with the destruction their efforts wrought. And that, too, was a uniquely Midgardian trait. “Did he succeed?” Loki asked, when he felt like he could speak without screaming out his frustration.

Thor shook his head. “Only with two, a brother and sister called Wanda and Pietro.” The corners of his mouth turned down. “Pietro was killed. The last I saw Wanda, she went to stay with Stark at the Avengers compound.”

“And she has abilities?” Loki rubbed his fingers against his temples.

“She can do things with her mind. Not just hers, but others’ as well.” Thor flinched a little, realizing how this sounded in the wake of what Loki had just revealed. Still, he pressed on. “It was she who showed me a vision of the Infinity stones and the destruction they’re capable of. Not intentionally. I don’t believe she knows what they are – she’s little more than a child. But she can make people see their worst fears.”

So not only was this Hydra experimenting with the Scepter, but they were doing it on _children_ , giving them powers to control minds. Loki didn’t know when his breathing had grown rapid, but he was suddenly aware of it, hitching in his ears. “Your worst fear was the Infinity stones?” How strange, when Loki had not even realized Thor _knew_ about the Infinity stones.

“My worst fear was Ragnarok,” Thor corrected quietly. “It’s all connected, Loki.”

“I agree.” For the first time since arriving on Deaphus, Loki felt chilled, and it had nothing to do with the temperature of the planet. “I suggest, when we get to Heliopolis, that we make quick use of their bridge to get to Earth. If what you say is true, then Midgard is in just as much danger as we are.”

Thor looked at him uneasily, comprehending what Loki didn’t say. The Titan would never stop, not until he had all of the stones. Knowing his power and his connection to the Mind stone, it was a fair bet that the Titan was already aware of – and would be coming for – Wanda.

___

When they got back to the house, Loki went upstairs to his and Thor’s room so that he could lay down. The morning had been so fraught with emotion and revelation that it left Loki feeling completely wrung out, like a cloth squeezed too hard to rid it of every last drop of water. He did not stop to think about anything; he simply pulled off his boots and his tunic, crawled under the covers, and let exhaustion overtake him.

Loki slept more heavily than he had in weeks. He did not have any nightmares; for that matter, he did not have pleasant dreams, either – just jumbles of fleeting images and thoughts that made little sense. The next thing he was cognizant of was the sensation of being watched, along with the growing realization that it was darker than it should have been.

His eyes snapped open and his breath caught in his throat at his unfamiliar surroundings. It was an embarrassingly long moment before he remembered that he was in his and Thor’s room, in the officers’ house on Deaphus. He was not alone. By the light of one lone lamp, he could see the Valkyrie sitting cross-legged on Thor’s bed. She had a book in her lap, but she looked up when she realized that Loki was awake.

Loki sat up so fast that his head spun. “What the Hel are you doing in here?” he demanded.

Valkyrie quirked an eyebrow. “Thor asked me to keep an eye on you. He said you’re sick, although the only thing _I_ can see wrong with you is that you’re touchy as shit.” She slapped her book closed.

Her words sank in, and if possible, Loki grew even more annoyed. “I’m not sick.”

She shrugged. “Your brother seemed to think so. He said you two had an interesting morning, and you’ve been sleeping for … well, it’s night now, so however many hours the day lasts here. I haven’t kept track.” Valkyrie’s gaze traveled over him, her brow furrowing as she lingered on his chest. Loki suddenly remembered he’d taken his tunic off; he hurried to grasp it from where he’d left it on the floor and yanked it over his head, but it was too late. “ _Norns_ , that’s an impressive scar,” she said.

“Calling attention to people’s physical flaws is generally considered rude, you know,” he grumbled, pushing his hair away from his face.

“So is traumatizing young children,” she shot back. 

Loki opened his mouth and then closed it again.  He pressed a hand to his sternum, feeling uncomfortably exposed even though his tunic now covered the scar. He’d never been able to erase the evidence of his Svartalfheim wound. His own spell had kept him alive, but healing had never been one of his strengths, and he could not seek out Eir as himself when she believed him dead.

Valkyrie was still looking at him. She seemed like she was trying to decide whether to ask about it or not. Loki made the decision for her. “I was stabbed,” he said simply. “Impaled, technically. A few years ago.”

Her eyebrows went up a bit. “Most people don’t survive being impaled."

“Well, I did.” Loki got up and went over to the window, just to see for himself that night actually had fallen. The sun was nowhere to be seen, though it could not have set long ago, judging by the lingering indigo color of the sky, indicating that night had not fully settled in. “Where’s Thor?”

“At the palace, with Heimdall. After Saija’s hospital report, he wanted to go and talk to the queen again. Don’t know when he’ll be back.”

“Mm.” A flicker of curiosity about the nature of the Deaphan illness went through him, gone again just as quickly. He turned away from the window and went into the bathroom, wincing when he got a good look at himself in the mirror. Even though he’d just slept for, apparently, an entire day, he still had heavy, dark circles beneath his eyes. His hair was disheveled from sleep and, when he turned his face from side to side, he noticed that the shadows beneath his cheekbones were a bit more pronounced, as if he’d lost weight and was only just now noticing it. He wrapped his thumb and middle finger around his wrist, frowning at the overlap.

Well. Not much he could do about it right now. Loki washed his face and brushed his teeth, then combed his hair away from his face just enough so that it had some semblance of its usual order. He considered lifting his tunic to look at the scar, almost as if to see what it might have looked like through Valkyrie’s eyes, but he ignored the urge.

She was still there when he came out of the bathroom. Loki frowned at her, sitting down on the edge of his bed so that he could pull on his boots. “You don’t need to keep baby-sitting me,” he told her.

Valkyrie shrugged, leaning back on her elbows. “I don’t have anything better to do,” she admitted. “Dagny’s sleeping and Bruce is doing something with soil and insect samples and bemoaning his lack of something called a _microscope_. It’s kind of gross, actually.”

Loki snorted. He straightened up. “Sorry to let you down,” he said, not sounding sorry in the least, “but I’m busy, too. You’ll have to go bother Saija.”

“Oh yeah? Busy doing what?”

“Going for a walk.” He hadn’t actually decided that until just that moment, but he was already feeling suffocated, and didn’t relish sitting around in the house, waiting for Thor to come back.

“I’ll go with you,” she offered.

He’d rather she didn’t. However, he did not protest. The more of a fight he put up, the more she’d insist; she had that same streak of stubbornness that both he and Thor possessed, so maybe it was just something inherently Asgardian. She’d counter his resistance and follow him just to prove a point.

So, Loki shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

She surprised him. After he’d let himself out of the house and began down the main path that led out of the stronghold, she was still on his heels. He sighed. “For someone who’s made a habit of being pretty antisocial,” he couldn’t help saying, “you can be an incredible nuisance.”

“I want to talk to you,” she answered simply.

“Is this about your pet?” Loki sighed, folding his arms over his chest. “I’ve already decided to apologize, so you don’t need to convince me of that. Nor remind me that she is just a child.”

“I wasn’t going to convince you nor chastise you,” Valkyrie said, blowing out her breath. “Don’t get me wrong, I was plenty angry when Bruce told me what happened. But I think it was my fault, in this particular instance.”

The words were so unexpected that Loki actually stopped walking. His boots crunched against gravel as he turned to face her, not bothering to hide the surprise on his face. “I beg your pardon?”

“Don’t look so shocked, or I’ll take it back,” she warned.

Loki let out a short laugh, more an exhale than a sound of real amusement. “How do you figure?”

She shrugged again. “I shouldn’t have been calling you Lackey. I didn’t realize it bothered you that much.” She started walking again, leaving Loki no choice but to fall in step beside her. “I also didn’t realize Dagny would pick it up. I’m not generally good with children, nor do I really understand their behaviors. I was careless. So, I’m sorry.”

His brow furrowed. _That_ was what she was apologizing for? Yes, being called _Lackey_ irritated him to no end, but he’d endured far greater slights from Thor and his friends over the years, none of whom showed even hints of remorse. “You’re apologizing … over a nickname?” he clarified.

“One that bothered you so immensely that you lashed out at a child,” she reminded him.

Loki unfolded his arms, his thumb automatically going to his palm to dig against the skin. His first instinct was to laugh at her – how _trite_ , this apology; what weakness she showed in humbling herself to atone for such an insignificant sin. The amusement was fleeting, followed by insult – what did she think he was, an imp whose moods indicated a need to be coddled? “I am not so delicate that you need to square with my wounded pride,” he said tightly. “It’s an irritation – doubly so from a child – but hardly worth the breath even spent apologizing.”

Valkyrie let out a loud sigh, spinning on her heel so that she was walking backward, enabling her to look him in the eye while still keeping up a fairly rapid, graceful stride. “You can’t make anything easy, can you? Look, for better or for worse, we’re all stuck with each other for awhile. Squabbling with you can be amusing for a time, but I do not actually wish to be on bad terms. It just makes things more complicated.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “What’s complicated about animosity?”

“It may not bother _you_ , but I find it tiring,” she retorted. “Besides, it’s now directly affected a child I’ve taken into my care, and I’m not proud of that.”

“Why?” Loki’s gaze flicked over her. She looked every inch a Valkyrie, and a far cry from the drunken wreck stumbling around Sakaar. One battle would not undo the damage she’d been carrying for a millennium, but taking Hela down a few notches had seemed to ease her turmoil a bit. Though she did not wear her battle armor, dressing instead in a more comfortable outfit of a tunic and loose-fitting pants, her hair hanging around her shoulders, she still carried herself with the straight-backed strength of a warrior. There was nothing about her that hinted at some hidden maternal instinct or the need to nurture.

“Why aren’t I proud of that?” Valkyrie blinked.

“No – why have you taken Dagny into your care? You don’t strike me as the adoptive type,” he told her. “I understand that she’s alone, but there are many children alone. So, why her?”

If she hadn’t kept looking at him, her face lined in thought, Loki would have thought she had not heard the question, she was quiet for so long. They were walking aimlessly, the path leading them out of the stronghold and in the direction of the city but Loki suddenly veered off the main path, deciding to follow the fields in the opposite direction. Valkyrie moved with him seamlessly. If she was surprised by the change in direction, she didn’t show it.

“She’s not just any child,” Valkyrie finally said. She spun around again so that she was walking forward, effectively closing her features from Loki’s view as she stared straight ahead. “I used to know her family.”

To his credit, this time, Loki did not let his surprise show. But her words jolted through him, reminding him that before the Valkyrie slaughter, before Sakaar, she’d had an entire life in Asgard. “Oh?” He interjected just the right amount of attentiveness into his tone that implied a mild curiosity without revealing that he was incredibly interested to hear what she had to say about that previous life and its connection to Dagny.

Valkyrie was definitely not looking at him, seemingly going out of her way to look anywhere but at Loki’s face. “When the Valkyrie … when we went after Hela, only I came back, as you know. But I had a lover who fought by my side. She was … beautiful.” Her voice softened. “Beautiful and strong. She was rarely bested in battle or in sparring; she’d been molded and trained for the Valkyrie since childhood. She was so serious, so _stodgy_. I used to like to make her laugh. Her name was Maj.”  

Loki said nothing. A feeling of discomfort gnawed at his stomach, and he did not know the source of it.

For a few moments, they were quiet. Valkyrie shook her head and cleared her throat, as if suddenly realizing how much she’d revealed. “Anyway … I didn’t have much of a family of my own. Maj’s family became mine, too, until Maj died. I left Asgard not long after, never saw any of them again. But when I got on the ship and saw Dagny, it was like looking at the spitting image of Maj’s younger sister, Birgit.”

“I see,” Loki said quietly. “Dagny is Maj’s niece.”

“Yes. Birgit, Dagny’s father, her grandparents, they were all killed. Dagny hasn’t told me how she survived. Maybe she never will. But I can’t look at her and not see Birgit and, by extension, Maj. And I can’t just leave her to fend for herself. So.” Valkyrie shrugged and then patted her pockets; a moment later, she came up with a tiny bottle of amber liquid. She uncapped it and tilted her head back, downing the entire bottle in a fast swig.

Her words hung in the air between them as they walked, Loki processing everything she’d said. He should have realized that the Valkyrie would not have plucked up a random child to care for without having some connection to her, but Loki had not thought on it enough to put that together. He had not been thinking things through nearly as well as he used to; he’d felt more unfocused than ever, since Ragnarok, letting details and bits of information sail past him while he wallowed and worried.

They had followed the field toward the far edges of the palace grounds, on the side that overlooked the water. It reminded him of Norway, the edge of the cliff jutting out over a tranquil sea; above them, stars were beginning to pierce the sky as the very last bits of twilight faded to black. Loki looked up at the sky, scanning as if to pick out constellations, though he knew that in this region of space, there were none he’d recognize. Valkyrie followed his gaze and then looked away. She threw her empty bottle out over the cliff, sending it sailing gracefully through the air until it landed in the water several feet out. Then she pulled out another one.

“Do you just conjure those up out of nowhere?” Loki asked, amused in spite of himself.

Valkyrie shrugged. “I’m just well-prepared.”

“That’s going to kill you eventually, you know,” he told her.

“So might a sword, and even sooner,” she replied, and shot him a sardonic smile. “Bottoms up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, re: Dagny, I keep getting conflicting information about the Asgardian aging process - some sources say it's just a super slow process, while others say that they age about the same rate as humans, and then it slows down. I find the whole thing sort of confusing, I'll admit, but for the sake of the story, I'm figuring Valkyrie's lover could have had a younger sister who, while Val was gone, grew up and had a child of her own. I'm imagining Dagny to be about eight or nine in human years, for the record. :)


	16. XVI.

 

**XVI.**

The next morning, Loki sat with the council as they gathered in the living room for a meeting. It had not taken long for Saija to figure out the illness that was affecting the Deaphans. “It is reminiscent of a disease that was more common in my youth, called Benthieritis, or _the Bens_. We developed a vaccine that was given to children at birth as a preventative measure; eventually, Asgardians built an immunity. This particular strain is unique to Deaphan genes, so we are not in danger of contracting it.”

“Can you cure it?” Thor asked.

Saija nodded. “I believe we can replicate our vaccine, but it may take some time to modify it to the Deaphans’ genetic code. Maybe a few days. There are some supplies back on the ship that we’ll need.”

“If you are successful at creating the vaccine,” Heimdall said, “do you think there will be enough to treat the ill?”

She gave a slight grimace. “I hope so, but I cannot tell you without a doubt. Three more came in yesterday, showing symptoms. With our limited supply, it will be a challenge.” She brightened. “But we may be able to duplicate our supplies, if this world has similar natural resources as Asgard.”

Thor looked relieved, as if at least one weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Inevitably, it would be replaced by three more, Loki thought; things never stayed easy for long. “If you can create a list of the resources you might need, we can start collecting them now so that, when your vaccine is finished, you may be able to quickly make more.”

“I will do so,” Saija replied, and stood. “I’ll send Gerda and Viera to the ship’s infirmary to see what can be spared. We will have the list to you as soon as possible.”

“Thank you.” Thor gave her a genuine smile.

Heimdall also stood. “I would like to assist, if you don’t mind,” he said, both to Saija and to Thor.

Thor’s shoulders rose and fell and he glanced at Saija, who nodded. “I can always use more help,” she agreed, giving Heimdall a smile that, though small, was appreciative.

After they had departed, Loki exhaled; he had not spoken to Heimdall since the previous day and did not plan to do so, but when they were in one another’s presence, the tension was palpable. Which was Heimdall’s fault, Loki decided. They could have gone on mutually pretending the other didn’t exist, if Heimdall had not brought up the past and awakened some of Loki’s bitterness. Animosity now radiated off of Loki in the other man’s presence, and he was perceptive enough to realize that the others felt it, too.

Thor, to his credit, did not question him about it. He likely did not want to hear any more of Loki’s burdens; learning of the Tesseract, it seemed, had thrown Thor off balance. It was a new issue to be dealt with, a new problem to solve. Loki knew how to solve it, but it would take time. He needed to lay low until he devised a plan that absolutely would not fail. There could be no room for error.  

When the meeting had ended, they separated. Thor went to the infirmary to aid Gerda and Viera with the list. Loki could have gone with him, or made himself useful somehow, but instead he found himself remaining in the living room, absently looking over the books on the shelf. They were mostly history and military strategy books, along with a few biographies on some of Deaphus’s prominent figures.

Loki found a book about King Andri, Briony’s father, recognizing him only because the picture on the book cover matched the one that had been hanging on the wall in the queen’s meeting hall. He took the book with him to the couch. Bruce, for once, was nowhere to be found. For awhile, Loki occupied himself with reading. He learned that Andri had ruled Deaphus for four centuries before he died. The monarchal system of Deaphus seemed similar to Asgard, with the line of succession going through the ruler’s direct heirs. The main difference Loki noticed was that, in Deaphus, it did not matter if the oldest child was male or female; he or she was heir apparent and would inherit the throne unchallenged. Asgard did not work that way. Its patriarchal values were long-ingrained and unlikely to change, unless _Thor_ fundamentally changed. Women could not rule alone. They could rule as queen beside the crowned king, but held little power alone. It was why Frigga could not rule when Thor had been banished and their father in the Odinsleep, leaving the throne to Loki. If the king’s direct heirs were female, then the line of succession would go to the closest male kin – a brother or cousin.

Growing up, Loki had not questioned this much. It was simply the way of Asgard, the way of Odin and Bor and all the kings who had come before. But when he was older, he was more and more cognizant of it because it affected him, too. When he tried desperately to figure out what was _wrong_ with him, why people favored him so much less than Thor so that, whatever it was, he could fix it, it occurred to him that perhaps people did not like him nor see him fit to rule because he embraced traits that were decidedly feminine. He was not built like the warriors, having always been tall but lanky, and skinnier still as a youth. His slight form and agility in battle was more akin to the way women fought, for Frigga had taught him how to use his size to his advantage, how to keep one step ahead and never be caught off-guard. It was a more graceful way to fight, and just as lethal as swinging a hammer, but nevertheless he was judged. His pursuit of knowledge, his intellect, his _sei_ _ð_ _r_ \- these were all things associated more with women than men.

Loki had never understood it. Surely that he embraced both male and female attributes would have made him more powerful – could they not see that a king needed intellect to rule, needed logic and precision? Did they not understand that he could not only defend himself effectively, but gain the upper hand by fighting in ways his opponents did not expect? How could they be so blind to how much power _sei_ _ð_ _r_ gave him, how many things he was capable of that was beyond the reach of others? Odin himself was one of the most powerful _sei_ _ð_ _men,_ but he was revered where Loki was scorned, and it did not _make sense_.

After he learned the truth of what he was, after he’d fallen from the rainbow bridge and everything that had happened after, Loki finally gave up trying to understand.

He allowed himself a moment to appreciate, though, that Deaphus seemed to revere its women equally to its men. Briony was the sole child of King Andri, which made the throne hers. Any husband she took would rule beside her but would not overpower her, and if she did not marry, the concern was not for her ability to rule alone but for the lack of an heir. She had been in power for a long time. According to the book, Briony had only been a child when Andri died, and she was crowned queen, though her mother ruled as regent until she was old enough to take over. Her mother had died eventually, leaving Briony the last of her House. But Briony was young still, and would likely marry, so the line was not yet in dire straits.

Loki read the entire book, learning of Andri’s time on the throne – the conflicts he had successfully resolved without war, the courage he had shown when conflict could not be avoided, donning his helm and sword and surging into battle side by side with his soldiers. His kindness did not make him weak, and it seemed that his reign had been prosperous and successful. By the time he’d reached the end of the book, Loki could not help but wonder how different things would have turned out – how different _he_ would have turned out – if Andri had raised him instead of Odin.

* * *

When he’d finished the book, it was still barely midday. Bruce had wandered into the living room at some point, but Loki had not said anything to him and Bruce returned the favor. Now, Loki glanced over at him; he was standing at the window, staring out at the sun while occasionally looking down at his paper and jotting something down. 

For lack of anything better to do, Loki joined him. “What are you doing?” he asked, unable to help his curiosity because he could not imagine what Bruce was trying to accomplish by staring at the sun.

Bruce didn’t look at him. “Research,” he said simply. “I’m trying to record everything I can, no matter how mundane. This kind of knowledge will be invaluable to our scientists and development.”

“You do desperately need it,” Loki agreed, which earned him a sour look. He looked past Bruce out the window, watching Valkyrie and Dagny approaching from somewhere beyond the wall. Dagny had skipped ahead and was keeping a quicker pace, as children were wont to do, while Valkyrie carried a small pile of wood with her.

Better to get it over with now.

“Have fun,” he said, with a little extra cheer in his voice, just for the sake of getting another one of those looks tossed in his direction. Loki didn’t _mean_ to antagonize Bruce; he just couldn’t seem to help it. Loki grinned as he turned away, heading outside to meet Valkyrie. She lifted a hand in a wave when she saw him, but Dagny noticeably slowed down, the smile fading from her face. Loki hesitated just briefly and then closed the distance between them, meeting in the yard.

“Hey,” said Valkyrie.

Loki nodded at the wood. “What’s that for?”

“We decided we need to have some fun,” she replied, shooting a smile in Dagny’s direction. Dagny was not quite hiding behind Valkyrie, but she might as well have been, for all the apprehension she was radiating. Usually, Loki enjoyed when those around him were visibly intimidated by him, but in the case of a child, it just made him uncomfortable. _I am the monster parents tell their children about at night._  

“We’re going to make a _hnefatafl_ board,” Valkyrie went on. “Dagny, apparently, can best any opponent. I have to see this for myself, so.” She dropped the wood onto the ground with a clatter. “Want to help?”

“No.” Loki was familiar with the game, of course. It was a very popular strategy game in Asgard, played by children and adults alike. Loki remembered playing often with Thor and his friends, and had enjoyed it. But Loki won easily and often, so much so that Fandral and Hogun accused him of cheating. And Loki _was_ a liar, and a trickster, but he’d never cheated and took deep insult to the slight against his intellect. As if he had to cheat to outsmart those dull fools. “I just came to talk to Dagny,” he added, glancing down at the girl.

Her eyes widened and he suppressed the urge to roll his own. For Norns’ sake, it wasn’t like he’d _hit_ her. She didn’t have to be so theatrical about it.

“Ah. Well.” Valkyrie waved a hand. “Dagny, that okay with you?”

The girl hesitated, and then nodded.

He tried not to let his annoyance show. He just knelt down so that he was more or less eye-level with Dagny, taking a moment to reflect on how undignified the pose was. He who had once ruled Asgard was now crouching down to apologize to a child. How far he had fallen. “Hi,” he said. “I just wanted to say I am sorry for yelling at you yesterday. I didn’t mean to scare you.” There. That hadn’t been so bad.

Dagny’s gaze traveled over his face, perhaps searching for the trick, but there was none to be found. “It wasn’t very nice,” she said, and cleared her throat. “But I accept your apology.”

Loki lifted a brow. She sounded so rehearsed. Maybe Valkyrie had told her what to say, because she did not look as if the apology had changed anything – she was still wary, avoiding looking at him directly. Loki sighed. Valkyrie was right in that they were all stuck with one another for a time, and it wouldn’t do for the girl to be visibly jumpy around him, if for no other reason than it would irritate the shit out of him. Loki gave the girl a smile full of practiced warmth. Clearly, she needed a little charming.

“You’re good at this game?” he asked, gesturing in the direction of the wood pile.

She tilted her head curiously and then nodded. “It’s my favorite game,” she said. “We play every night at home, and I always win.”

“So you must have a lucky _Hnefi,_ then?” The king-piece was the most important piece in the game, as the entire strategy revolved around keeping one’s King from being captured by the opponent’s army. The pieces were fairly generic, and having a lucky _Hnefi_ wasn’t typical, but Loki had his own special king-piece anyway, made of smooth green datolite crystal with his name carved into the side in elegant Asgardian runes. He’d kept it until he’d been accused of cheating, and then he’d smashed it to pieces.  

As he expected, Dagny’s brow furrowed. “No, just a regular one.” Her face fell. “Actually, not even that anymore. We don’t have any pieces. They all got lost with everything else.”

Loki could feel Valkyrie’s gaze on him, but he ignored it. “You can use anything for pieces,” he said, brushing the concern aside, as it was of little importance. “Except a _Hnefi_. That has to be special, a constant that you can feel in your palm and know it belongs to you and no one else. It belongs to you because you are the best, and everyone must recognize it.

As he spoke, he’d been conjuring in the back of his mind. He held out his hand; there was a shimmer of green-gold and then a king-piece materialized in his palm. Datolite crystal carved into shape, a replication of his own but with Dagny’s name on it instead. Creating pure matter was a little more complicated than casting an illusion over something that already existed, but it was not overly difficult. Loki could not help but feel slightly pleased with himself when the apprehension vanished from her features and her eyes lit up with delight, over the _Hnefi_ or the trick or both, he wasn’t sure.

“Here,” he said, and handed it to her. “ _Now_ you can say you’re the best.”

She closed her small fingers around it, slowly, as if it were the most delicate jewel. When she looked back up, there was a sadness in her eyes that far outweighed her years. It made something in the back of Loki’s throat tighten. “Thank you, Loki.”  

“Sure.” Loki shrugged and straightened up to his full height. Maybe now she wouldn’t shrink away when she saw him. He glanced back at the Valkyrie, who’d watched the entire exchange silently. When she met his gaze, her lips tilted in the tiniest smile. It made him feel inexplicably uncomfortable, like a great weight was settling over him and he needed to get air. His throat still felt tight. He took a few steps back. “Well. Don’t let me keep you from making your board.” Without waiting for a response, he headed back for the house, suddenly needing to put a great deal of distance between himself and whatever had just happened.

Unfortunately, Valkyrie had other ideas. He was only halfway up the stairs when she caught up to him. “Thank you,” she said, grasping his arm to stop him mid-step.

Loki pulled back automatically, making sure his expression was completely neutral when he looked back at her. “I said I would apologize, and I did.”

“You did,” she agreed. “Still. You showed her a kindness that you didn’t have to. I’ve never seen that girl smile like that.”

The heavy feeling persisted. “It’s just a silly trick,” he told her.

Valkyrie stared at him, her brow furrowed, expression unreadable. “You are an impossible person,” she finally said, and blew out her breath. “I didn’t even know having a lucky king-piece was a _thing_.”

“It’s not.” Loki turned away, resuming his walk up the stairs. “Just a bit of fun.”

* * *

It was after _n_ _á_ _ttm_ _á_ _l_ that Thor found Loki in their room. Loki was laying on his bed, staring at the ceiling, not really doing anything except thinking – thinking of the Tesseract, thinking of Midgard, thinking of how peculiar it was that such a small gesture could make a child so happy, or that the Valkyrie could look at him, even if briefly, the way she looked at Thor. It was a relief, for once, when Thor walked in and put a halt to his thoughts.

Thor looked very tired. Loki had gotten so used to the eye patch in such a relatively short time that he hardly noticed it anymore, but tonight, it was stark against his weary features, the lines under his remaining eye hollow. Loki sat up at the sight of him. “Brother, you look terrible.”

“Always one for flattery,” Thor returned with a slight smile. He let out a sigh and dropped down onto his bed.

“What’s wrong?”

Thor shrugged and then stretched his arms above his head. “Nothing that I cannot handle. A bit of melancholy. Saija is hard at work on her cure, but it was … quite sobering, being at the hospital.” Thor closed his eye, his breathing deep and even. Awhile passed; Loki thought Thor might have fallen asleep, but then he spoke again, his voice much quieter than usual. “Does it reflect poorly on me,” he said, “if I admit I do not want to be there, among the sick and dying?”  

Loki was taken off guard by Thor’s question, but he carefully considered his answer. He did not necessarily think it was inherently wrong to not want to be around the sick and the dying; it took a certain constitution to be a healer, which was why it was such a prestigious station. Loki did not want to be around the ill, either. It wasn’t that he was afraid of the spread of disease or catching the illness, - truthfully, debilitating sickness was rare in Asgard, and he’d never thought on it one way or another. But at the hospital the previous day, witnessing such suffering had reminded him of something. His own vulnerability, perhaps; his own weakness, the torment he’d endured at the hands of the Titan.

He shuddered a little. “Why don’t you want to be there?” he asked, instead of directly answering Thor’s question.

“I don’t know.” Thor sighed. “I think it’s the senselessness of it. I do not understand how a sickness can kill so rapidly, so _invisibly_. One day, these people were fine, and the next … and, of course, those who die are leaving loved ones behind. Someone is always left behind.” Thor lowered his arms, clasping his hands together over his abdomen. “What comfort do they have? Dying with honor, with _valor_ , can at least be exalted, but from disease …” He shook his head. “Senseless,” he said, yet again.

“Most death is senseless,” Loki pointed out, “even death in battle, with glory. The loved ones left behind do not suffer any less.” Had he not mourned his mother deeply, screamed his outrage at the sheer inequity of it? Those hours alone in his cell, during the time between his receiving the news and Thor’s arrival, Loki had never felt such anguished grief – not even after he’d fallen, not even at the hands of the Titan. Frigga’s death had been the most honorable, a true queen dying for king and country, but that was no comfort at all. Battle or illness, swift or slow … in the end, she was just as dead.

For a moment, he felt irritated. Even after everything, Thor still had such a simplistic world-view: good versus evil, hero versus villain, honor versus common. But Thor was a warrior through and through, had been so for his entire life, and the length of his life thus far vastly outweighed the brief years since everything had changed. Loki could not truly begrudge Thor, for he was born into royalty, a member of the elite warrior class and a prince besides. War was in his blood, and a glorious death would always be more honorable. It did not make him feel for the people any less, nor break his vow to protect them, but it did add a supercilious element to his care – for all the good in his heart, Thor also protected them because he believed them incapable of defending themselves.

But Loki, who had taken lives upon lives and cared little for them – because if Asgardian commoners were worth less than warriors, surely human lives were more insignificant still. What room did he have to speak? Loki pressed his lips together, remaining silent. Thor did not really seem to be seeking a genuine answer to his question, anyway. They were again quiet for awhile. Loki absently conjured an orb of light, which glowed green, and made it solid enough so that he could toss it up in the air and catch it again, over and over.

Thor changed the subject. He pulled himself into a sitting position with a slight groan. He watched Loki toss the orb for a few moments, looking thoughtful. “Loki,” he said, “how far can you cast an illusion?”

“What?”

“Your illusions, your doppelgangers. How far can you send one before you lose the connection to it?”

Loki considered. The more short-range his illusions, the more powerful they were; the further the illusion, the more energy it took. Loki often tested the limits of what he could do, always seeking to push himself just a _bit_ further, feel just a _bit_ more powerful. But he was careful to keep the knowledge of his own limitations to himself, as well as the scope of what he _could_ do. No need to give away all of his tricks. “I could send one to Earth,” he said, immediately catching on to what Thor was really asking, “but it would be very difficult. I do not know how long I can maintain it.”

Thor nodded his understanding. “Sif is on Midgard,” he reminded Loki, as if Loki had forgotten. “Heimdall tried to reach out to her, but without the Bifrost, it seems that she is closed off. She cannot hear him. If we could contact her another way, not only could we tell her of our plight, but she could give alert to Tony Stark about Wanda and the Infinity stones.”

“Mm.” How predictably convenient for Thor to appreciate Loki’s magic when he needed use of it. He allowed the resentment to pass through him, felt it for a long moment, and then forced himself to let it go. “I suppose it is worth a try. But.” He held up a finger. “There is a catch.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

Loki rolled his eyes. “If I am casting an illusion a short distance, I can make it take any form. The further away it goes, the more limited I become. I _can_ appear to Sif, but only as myself. And I doubt she would be too pleased to see me.”

Thor looked thoughtful. He rested his chin in his hands, elbows on his knees, again looking more like a school child than a king. “I understand your concerns,” he finally said, “but if you are truly up to it, then it may be our best option.” Thor looked perturbed for a moment, but he looked up at Loki and the expression passed. “So. _Are_ you up to it?”

“You always doubt me, brother.” But the words lacked venom, and Loki flashed his brother a smile, the confident smile of someone who knew exactly what he was doing. “Let’s find out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _hnefatafl_ is an ancient Viking game; nobody seems to know exactly how it is played, only that it's a game of strategy where the objective is to capture the opposite side's king. Kind of similar to chess.


	17. XVII.

 

**XVII.**

 

Thor, Loki, and Heimdall gathered in the brothers’ room. Though he was loath to admit it, Loki needed Heimdall – specifically, Heimdall’s ability to see. Loki could project an illusion, but he needed to know where to send it and, unlike the Gatekeeper, he could not find anyone with just a thought. There were endless places on Midgard where Sif could be, and Loki cared not to toss an illusion blindly into the cosmos and hope he ran into her.

So, Heimdall, then. Loki rubbed his thumb against his palm while Heimdall gazed at everything and nothing, golden eyes reflecting more brightly than usual. “She is in New York,” he finally said, and glanced at Thor. “At the Avengers facility you mentioned.”

Thor brightened a bit. “So she has already located Tony Stark. That’s good.”

“What city?” Loki asked.

Heimdall gave the name of a city Loki had not heard of – but then, as familiar as he considered himself with Midgard, there were many locations he had never heard of. Still, it did not matter if he had ever been there or not. The accuracy of the location was all he needed to project his mind there. Loki nodded once, and then closed his eyes. It was difficult to focus with the weight of Heimdall’s stare on him. His skin was crawling, and he forced himself to ignore the sensation. _It is not important_ , he thought, focusing on his breathing. It was like soothing himself after a nightmare, concentrating on the steady inhale and exhale of breath until he felt himself begin to relax. His mind cleared, everything went dark, and then suddenly he was hurtling across space, across time. It was instantaneous, and though he could already feel the strain of it, it was not as difficult as he’d anticipated. When he contacted Sif, he would be able to pull her image back with him so that, while she would not see or be able to speak to Thor, Thor could at least witness the conversation.

Loki focused on the facility, which was a military-style compound located among the fields of New York. Winter had fallen on Midgard. The ground was blanketed in a soft layer of snow; there were no leaves on the trees, only bare, skinny branches stretching toward a listless gray sky. He saw Sif immediately, outside despite the bleak conditions. She was using what appeared to be an outdoor training area, dressed in Midgardian clothes of black trousers and a slim-fitting dark coat, thrusting and parrying her sword against a punching bag dangling from a wooden post.

He chose to materialize beside the post so that she would see him right away, as sneaking up on her would serve no purpose. With a shimmer of light, he revealed himself. Sif’s sword froze in mid-air. She blinked, stepping back as pure shock washed over her features. Less than a second later, her face hardened with suspicion. “Loki,” she managed.

“Hello, Sif.”

She obviously knew he was an illusion, since he’d just appeared out of thin air, but she pointed her sword at his throat anyway, so close that, had he been physically present, he would have felt the edge of the blade against his skin. “What trickery is this?” she demanded. “I thought you dead.”

“I see you are as happy as I am that I am not.” The joviality of his words was undercut by the sheer mockery with which he delivered them. Even galaxies away, he could feel Thor glaring at him. Loki felt the back of his head beginning to throb, a reminder that he did not have the time to annoy her. He held up his hands. “There’s no trick, I swear on Valhalla. I am here on Thor’s behalf.”

Sif’s eyebrows went up slightly, and though she did not lower her sword, she did take a step back. “Then he lives?” she asked. The less observant would have missed the slight tremor in her voice. Loki was not surprised she feared Thor dead; since he had turned down the throne, he remained gone for months at a time, surfacing in Asgard less than a handful of times before disappearing again just as quickly. Loki-as-Odin encouraged Thor’s continued absence, for it allowed him to continue his ruse unthreatened, but it must have dismayed his friends. After being stranded, Sif had clearly come up with her own worries to try to fill in the blanks.

“Yes, but Odin does not.” Loki gave pause and then plunged ahead. There was no time to prepare her for the blow, but he did soften his voice when he gave it. “Asgard has fallen. Ragnarok has come and Surtur’s prophecy fulfilled.” He did pause then, nothing jovial or mocking in his expression anymore – only the somber reality of his words. “It’s gone, Sif.”

The color drained from her face so rapidly that it might have been comical, under any other circumstance. Sif finally lowered her sword, only because it slipped from her hand completely, clattering soundlessly into the snow. Her legs buckled and she swayed; Loki could do nothing to stop the collapse as she fell to her knees, palms pressed against her abdomen as if she were going to be sick. “Is this why I have been cut off from the Bifrost? From Heimdall?”

“Yes.” Loki felt flickers of sympathy for her – if it had been difficult for those of them who’d fought in the battle and watched the obliteration of their home, it had to be just as difficult to be cut off for months, only to learn that the only home she’d known was no more. For a moment, guilt washed over him at having sent her away – but, had he not, she may have been killed along with the Warriors Three, and that surely would have been the greater injustice.

He could ponder it later. Loki’s initial confidence that this was not as difficult as it seemed was fading; the longer he remained, the harder he had to focus and already, he felt parts of his vision going dark. “I don’t have much time,” he told her. “Thor and I are traveling with the remainder of our people toward Midgard, but we are very far away.”

Sif swallowed, her eyes scanning the space around Loki’s illusion as if she expected – hoped – Thor would materialize with him. “How many have perished?”

“Too many,” he said simply. It was not technically a lie, but he could not bring himself to tell her that nearly all of Asgard’s population had been decimated. “There will be time for details later, and you will have them. But Thor has sent me because we need to inform Tony Stark of our arrival. You have made it to his compound, yes?”

She blinked at him, the words taking a moment to sink in. Sif drew in a breath and braced her palms against the ground, pushing herself to her feet. “Y-yes,” she answered. She squared her shoulders, the warrior rising up to direct her focus on a mission, rather than dwelling on the devastation she’d just learned of. “When I could not access the Bifrost, I sought out the son of Coul, but SHIELD is no more, and he and his team are fugitives. There is much unrest and strife on Midgard due to the Sokovia Accords. I managed to make contact with Lady Jane Foster. She is trying to replicate the Bifrost but is decades away from real success. She told me that she no longer associates with Thor and does not know how to reach him, and sent me here to Tony Stark, the Man of Iron. He has graciously provided me shelter in my time of need.”

Half of what she’d said went over Loki’s head because all of his focus was strained on maintaining the illusion, which had begun to flicker. He would deconstruct her words later, piece by piece, but for now he just nodded to indicate a general understanding. She had established an alliance with Tony Stark; that was all that mattered at the moment. “All right,” he said. “Good. Thor wants you to tell Tony Stark that we are coming. We do not have an accurate timeline of when, but it should not be very long. We will need shelter for the refugees of Asgard, and we will need help negotiating with the government.”

“I will tell him.” Sif looked pained. “Loki, how many refugees do you travel with?”

A look passed between them. For the first time, Sif looked as if she wanted nothing more than for Loki to lie to her and, for the first time, he could not. “About two thousand.”

The number almost sent her to her knees again, but though she grew even paler and her hands trembled, she remained upright, acknowledging Loki’s words with only a nod.

Loki’s illusion flickered again. His head was throbbing so violently that he knew, once he returned to his physical form, that he was going to be feeling this for quite awhile. “One more thing, Sif,” he said. “Midgard needs to be on alert. There is an Infinity stone there, and it may be drawing a threat from a being who means to have it. I don’t have time to tell you more than that except that Wanda, specifically, must be aware.”

Sif’s brow furrowed. “Wanda,” she repeated, as if she could not quite place the name. Realization dawned a fraction of a second later, though, and her jaw set in a line. “Yes. I will tell the Man of Iron this, as well.” She gave him a long look, her features wrestling with the gravity of everything he’d told her reconciling with the trickster, the liar whom she’d thought dead and whom she had no reason to trust. Loki’s instinct to counter that look was to smirk, or to snap off a silver-tongued reply to remind her that she was wise not to trust him, yet this time he found that he could not.

His vision was starting to darken. Far away, at the other end of the tunnel, he could feel his physical body starting to respond, to resist against the strain. Before Loki vanished in a glimmer of green magic, he left her with a last parting line. “Thor is counting on you.”

And then he was gone.

New York, the snow, Midgard all faded in a flash that was at once blindingly white yet so dark it threatened to suffocate him. Then he was back in his physical body – and _Norns_ , everything hurt. His muscles ached with the effort of holding himself still and focused, his head hurt so badly it felt like his actual _brain_ was pulsing, and there was moisture on his face which, when he lifted a hand to wipe it away, he realized was blood trickling from his nose. He collapsed, cognizant of both Thor and Heimdall speaking and Thor’s arms reaching out to grasp his brother if only to soften the fall, if not prevent it. Loki could not hear what either of them were saying, not above the roar in his ears, but the way he found himself positioned on the floor, Thor hovering over him, reminded him so sharply of Svartalfheim that he wanted to laugh and cry at once.

He chose laughter, the sound weakly breaking from him as he looked up at Thor. “Told you I could do it, brother,” he whispered. If a reply came, he was not aware of it. Everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter than usual, but I am starting to lose a little steam and thought posting another update would be invigorating. :) A few various disclaimers: 
> 
> \- I may or may not be taking some liberties with Loki's abilities; ultimately, the MCU doesn't really show us all that he is capable of, and there are details and abilities in his MCU Wikia along with other sources that imply he's much more powerful than he lets on (but I think we all already knew that). I imagine, then, that he would be _capable_ of a seidr-induced Skype session with Sif, but at great cost to himself. Also, he mentions being able to project Sif's image so that Thor can witness the conversation. I am assuming he can do this because of the deleted scene in TDW; when Thor comes in to speak to his mother, we see her turn away from Loki's fading image, implying that while she was projecting herself into the cell, she was also calling his image to her, as if they were face to face in two different places. 
> 
> \- Due to the timing of the theatrical release of Thor: Ragnarok, my headcanon is that it takes place more or less concurrently with at least the first half of Agents of Shield season 5. I haven't spoiled anything that isn't already long-aired, but basically, Sif is referring to "Daisy Johnson" shooting General Talbot and the resulting fallout, along with Coulson's team conveniently disappearing ... uh, somewhere else. (Incidentally, now Thor knows Coulson is alive, so yay?) 
> 
> \- Thank you all SO much for all of the comments and kudos! Truly, they are keeping me going when I begin to doubt myself, so it is appreciated more than you know. :)


	18. XVIII.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I battle writer's block by making new cover art. 
> 
> TW/CW: Suicidal thoughts.

 

 **XVIII**. 

When he came to, Thor was hovering over him. Loki’s vision cleared just enough to see the eye-patch and the haggard features; _Odin,_ he thought, his heart seizing. He let out a soft cry of surprise and jerked away, but Thor’s hand was firmly on his shoulder, keeping him from bolting completely. “Hey, hey,” Thor said, for now Loki realized it was Thor, “you’re going to hurt yourself. Just relax.”

Loki drew a deep breath in through his nose, adjusting to his surroundings. He was still in his and Thor’s room, but he was no longer on the floor – he had been moved to his bed, and Heimdall was nowhere to be seen. Thor sat in a chair next to Loki’s bed, his features creased with worry.

For a moment, Loki was confused – then, his senses cleared and he remembered the projection. Loki could not help a groan, pressing his hands to his temples. His head throbbed as if there was someone inside of it, beating against it from the inside out. He was bone-weary and depleted; the emptiness in his core told him that his seiðr was all but gone. _Spell-sick_ , his mother used to call it, when an overuse of magic drained him from the source, leaving him as weak and hollow as a foal, unsteady on its new legs. His seiðr would return eventually, he knew, but the absence of it in the meantime left him feeling cold and exposed.

“Here.” Thor helped Loki sit up and then handed him a mug filled with steaming liquid, which Loki took out of reflex. Tea, he realized; the aroma of peppermint and sage greeted him pleasantly, and Loki had to wonder where Thor had managed to find it, for the warm comfort of tea was a luxury they’d not had in months. Not that either brother had ever particularly cared for it or craved it, but their mother did. Many memories were associated with the drink and they flooded through Loki’s mind as he closed his eyes and inhaled. Frigga preparing tea for a mid-afternoon snack, with sweet breads and honey; Frigga serving a warm cup when one of her sons was ill or injured, brushing her fingers through their hair while they sipped; Frigga reading bedtime stories, pausing every so often to lift her porcelain mug to her lips.

He opened his eyes and glanced at Thor, whose expression was unreadable. “How long was I out?”

“Not long,” Thor answered, clasping his fingers together as his elbows rested on his knees. “I’m sorry, Loki. I know you said it would be difficult, but I did not realize how much that would affect you.”

“I did.” Loki shrugged and took a sip of the tea, enjoying the way it warmed him from the inside. “I chose to do it anyway.”

“It was a last resort,” Thor said, and exhaled. “But I do appreciate it. Sif … gave us a lot of information, and I feel more at ease about Wanda, knowing that Stark is aware of a threat.”

Loki noticed that neither of them brought up their own threat, the Tesseract looming over their heads. He took one more sip of the tea, and then set the mug down on the bedside table. Most of what Sif had said made sense – it was only logical that she would seek out any known contacts on Midgard, first SHIELD and then Jane Foster. That she’d managed to end up at Stark’s compound spoke of her pragmatism. Tony Stark now knew they were coming, and he would protect Wanda – as much as a mortal could, at least.

But some of the things Sif said made no more sense now that Loki thought about them than they had when she’d first spoken. She’d sought out the son of Coul, there was unrest due to the Sokovia Accords … these things, Loki could not make sense of. He remembered that Bruce had mentioned SHIELD’s fall, which likely contributed to the strife on Midgard.

“Well, she has found refuge with Stark,” Loki pointed out, “and will deliver our messages. Is that not what matters?”

“It’s not.” Thor looked frustrated. He got up abruptly and crossed over to the window, folding his arms over his chest. Loki watched a muscle in his jaw move.

“What am I missing, then?” Loki rubbed a hand over his eyes and swung his legs over the side of the bed so that he was still sitting but could face his brother more easily. He immediately regretted this decision, as it made his head spin so sharply he saw stars. He gripped the mattress and took deep breaths until he could see again.

“She said she sought out the son of Coul.” Thor pressed his lips together and turned. His expression was somewhere between anger and sorrow, and despite himself, Loki’s heart fell. It had been so long since Thor looked at him like that; Loki had almost forgotten how it felt. His shoulders tensed. “But Phil Coulson died on the helicarrier five years ago … when you stabbed him in the heart.”

The words dropped like stones, but if Thor expected realization or a reaction, he must have been disappointed. Loki merely tilted his head. The thing about madness was, it affected the memory and muddled the senses. Loki remembered pinpoints of his time on Midgard, events that jutted out sharply among the din, but most of it he recalled only in a blur. Madness left him grasping blindly within the walls of his brain, trying to catch on to scraps of what happened, of how it felt.

He frowned, brow furrowed as he _tried_. The archer had come to Loki’s aid, freeing him from his cage; Thor barreled through Loki’s illusion while Loki stood at the controls mocking him, and – oh, yes. The SHIELD agent with the very large blaster, who’d so valiantly yet pointlessly tried to intervene and save Thor’s life.

Thor had been watching Loki, and he let out a short, harsh laugh. “You don’t even remember him, do you?”

Loki met Thor’s gaze. “It’s taken me a moment,” he admitted coolly, “but I do.”

They were both silent. Loki gazed at Thor evenly, and Thor looked back, his shoulders rigid. But he broke first, as he always did, and sighed, rubbing at his eye. “I know you were not yourself,” he said quietly, “and you have explained to me how you were manipulated, but … Coulson was a friend.”

“Are you waiting for an apology?” Loki narrowed his eyes. He did not like Thor’s tone of voice, that subtle hint of blame, of anger. He would have gotten to his feet, just to feel more on level with Thor, but he was so weak that he knew he would just collapse again. He settled for making his face as coldly neutral as possible. “I have none. There are always casualties in war.”

For a moment, Thor honestly looked like he wanted to hit Loki. He stared at him, fists clenching – then, he laughed again, shaking his head. Thor’s laugh, when genuine, was a deep, rumbling sound that had always brought comfort. _This_ sound, however, gave Loki chills. “You really can be absolutely _glacial_ when you want to be,” Thor said, and he didn’t even sound surprised.

“Forgive me,” Loki replied, his voice as hard as ice. “It must be my cold Jotun heart.”

The brothers glared at each other, each one poised for a fight, verbal or otherwise. Loki’s back was ramrod straight, while Thor’s fists were clenched, the smallest hint of electric buzzing along the knuckles. Time ticked past until, once again, Thor backed down. He flexed his fingers and turned away, focusing his attention out the window. “Look, I just … I don’t know what to make of this. Sif knew Coulson was dead, so why would she try to seek him out? She knew he survived, then, but she didn’t tell me. Why would she keep that from me?”

Thor shook his head, resting one palm flat against the window, as if to help hold himself upright. “And Jane. She spoke to Jane … what does that mean, she ‘no longer associates’ with me? It’s so … _impersonal_ , like we were never – like nothing we –“ He broke off. “Not to mention, what the Hel are the Sokovia Accords?”

Surely he knew Loki would have no answers to these questions. Loki exhaled, his shoulders slumping a bit. “I don’t know, brother,” he said quietly. “About any of it.” He let a beat pass, and then dared to ask, “What happened with Jane Foster?”

Thor sighed, and rested his forehead on the glass, next to his hand. “I don’t know,” he said, without turning. “I fear we fell in love too fast, yet could not manage to build upon the foundation. Her work keeps her very busy, and I would have to leave often – to fight with the Avengers, to seek the Infinity stones. We just … fell apart.”

Loki played with his fingers, clasping and unclasping them together. “Do you still love her?”

“Of course,” Thor answered, “but it is not that simple.”

No, Loki supposed not. But he would not truly know – he had never been in love, not the way Thor was with Jane. Loki was not even sure he knew what love was, or what it meant to be so vulnerable, so close to another person. For a moment, he thought of the Valkyrie, but just as quickly pushed the thought back. “Speculating will do no good right now,” he said to Thor. “It will just drive you mad for lack of answers.”

“I know, but sometimes, Loki, I feel as if I am mad already.”

“What do you mean?”

“Maybe not mad,” Thor amended, “but … sometimes, everything seems too much to bear. My mind spins and I do not know what to do. I thought Midgard would be a sanctuary where we could rebuild Asgard anew, but it seems their realm is just as troubled as the rest of the Nine. Moreso, perhaps.”

Loki could have told him that, years ago. He said nothing. Thor claimed to love Midgard, but Loki suspected he simply loved the _idea_ of Midgard. He was not bound to its culture, its politics, its shortcomings. He could call the Bifrost down when he needed to retreat to Asgard. But now Asgard was gone and Midgard’s shine was wearing off.

Still. He had to try to ease Thor’s burden, lest his silence further the divide between them. _One step forward, three steps back_ , Thor had said on the ship, when they’d fought about Svartalfheim. Loki could not step back now. He did not _want_ to step back now. What would Frigga say? “You have friends on Midgard, brother,” Loki reminded him. “I have never known you to face any foe you could not best. I have envied that, even hated it, but there is no denying it’s who you are. The future is not without challenges, but you will succeed. You always have.”

Thor dropped his hands and nodded. He let out his breath and turned to look at Loki again. “You’re right,” he said after a long pause. “I know you are. I just … sometimes, it is all very overwhelming.”

Loki’s mouth turned down. “Overwhelming, but not impossible.”

“Yes.” Thor’s shoulders heaved with the sigh he gave, and then he straightened again, king once more. He nodded toward the tea on the bedside table. “You should get some rest, brother. Tomorrow, Briony and Ailidh mean to visit the stronghold, and I would like you to be with me when I meet with them. But only if you are well enough.”

“I should be fine.” Loki picked up the tea cup again, sipping the now lukewarm liquid. “Do not trouble yourself over me.”

“I can’t help it.” Thor reached out and gave Loki’s head a hair-ruffling sort of pat, the kind he used to give when they were children. His hand lingered, cupping Loki’s neck in a gesture of fondness. “It’s what older brothers do.”

* * *

When Loki woke again, it was just barely dawn. He was curled up on his side, knees drawn up and his head resting on his arm, which was now uncomfortably stiff. Loki blinked, rubbing his eyes as they adjusted to the pale gray light of the room. He did not remember when he’d fallen asleep, but it did not seem to have done much good – in addition to still feeling spell-sick, he now had a crick in his neck and his joints were stiff and worn. When Loki sat up, dizziness crashed over him so strongly that he had to close his eyes and grasp the mattress to keep himself steady.

Once his vision cleared again, he looked across the room. In his bed, Thor slept relatively soundlessly, though he was tossing and turning more than usual. Even in slumber, he was an imposing figure, the bed hardly large enough to contain his limbs. Usually when he slept, he looked younger, his face relaxed and open, but now his brow was furrowed, eyes moving behind the lids as if he were dreaming something particularly unpleasant. Which, given their situation, he probably was.

Loki frowned. He wished he could say or do something that would help, but there was nothing. He focused instead on getting to his feet, but the sensation of being upright was too much for him to take. Nausea twisted his stomach, and Loki had to move quickly to the bathroom, barely making it before he was sick. He vomited what he’d eaten of the previous night’s _náttmál_  along with the tea; he vomited until his throat was raw with bile and he was emptied inside and out.

Oh, _Norns,_ he was sick. Spell-sick was the worst kind of sick, for there was nothing he could do to ease it; he had to simply wait it out. He slumped against the wall, drawing his knees up to his chest and rubbing his temple. He could not remember the last time he’d been spell-sick. It was not unusual for him to push himself beyond his limits, just for the sake of saying he _could_ , but as his power grew, the harder it was to cross that border. It gave him a sense of invincibility, sometimes, knowing that he might be slight, might not possess Thor’s sheer strength, but he had _power_ , more power than anyone knew.

Loki pressed his fingertips to his chest, through the fabric of his tunic, rubbing against the grooves of the scar there. For most people, death was a shadow lurking in the periphery, waiting to strike. But Loki was Death’s shadow, and Death was ever out of reach. Like an unrequited love, it swiftly evaded Loki’s advances, laughing at him from just beyond his grasp. The fact that he could not have it made him crave it all the more. He remembered hanging from the Bifrost, gripping Gungnir, Thor’s anguished face above him, and this time, he remembered letting go. Odin’s soft Loki, no had split Loki’s heart into fragments, sending poisonous hatred down to his bones. He hated himself, so deeply that it hurt, and he’d surrendered himself to the void for the belief that he deserved it. A slow, torturous death, ripped apart by the Universe itself, was the only punishment fitting for someone so disgustingly flawed.  

He pushed his fingers into his hair, pushing the black strands away from his face. These thoughts always dwelled below the surface, but now that had sprung up to torment him, sliding into the emptiness his seiðr had left behind. He did not need to think about it, did not need to let himself fall down into the wormhole of his inner turmoil. He could get lost in there, if he let himself.

Instead, Loki focused on his breathing. In, out, in, out. Once he was certain he was not going to be sick again, he pushed himself to his feet. Washing, brushing his teeth, and dressing was a slow, arduous ordeal, but at long last he emerged from the bathroom feeling at least a little more put-together. Thor was still sleeping. Loki stayed in the room just long enough to put on his boots before he ventured into the hallway.

Morning was slipping in through the windows as the sun fully rose, the gray spill of dawn receding behind a hue of orange. Heimdall was already awake. As Loki came down the stairs, he saw Heimdall sitting on the sofa in the living room, a mug held tight in his palms. Loki hesitated, and then continued on. He’d almost made it to the kitchen before Heimdall spoke.

“Are you well, Loki?” he asked.

“I am fine,” Loki responded.

“It was very helpful of you to reach out to Lady Sif,” Heimdall said, offering Loki a small smile. “Your efforts are not unappreciated.”

“Glad to hear it.” Loki frowned, wondering why Heimdall felt this incessant need to t _alk_ to him all the time. Had Loki not made it clear that there was no love lost between them? It seemed that, with the destruction of Asgard and his beloved rainbow bridge, Heimdall sought to build new ones with those around him. Perhaps he simply could not help himself.

Not wishing to dwell on it, Loki continued into the kitchen, relieved to find it empty. He was not particularly hungry, especially after his nausea, but partaking in food and drink would help his seiðr return more quickly. He quietly prepared himself a glass of milk and a few rolls with honey. Even the act of moving around the kitchen so much had exhausted him, and he had to rest his head against one palm, elbow resting on the table, while he used his free hand to eat.

It was in that ungraceful and remarkably child-like position that the Valkyrie found him when she came into the kitchen about ten minutes later. She paused in the threshold, her gaze flicking over him, and though Loki instinctively wanted to straighten up, he did not want to appear bothered, so he simply gazed back at her, chewing on a piece of bread. “Good morning,” he said when he’d swallowed.

“Good morning.” Valkyrie hesitated and then continued into the room. “You must be feeling better, if you’re up and about.”

“ _Better_ is a relative term,” Loki admitted, “but I am not an invalid, so yes, it’s best to continue my routine as normal.”

She clucked her tongue, opening the ice box to retrieve one of her bottles of alcohol. Nothing about her drinking habits surprised him anymore. “ _Dagmál_  isn’t usually part of your routine,” she observed, grabbing a peach and carrying both items to join him at the table.

“Neither is tolerating your company, yet here we are,” Loki responded, but the words lacked any real animosity. He didn’t know when it had happened, but her presence had stopped irritating him so much. He thought again of the smile she’d given him, that tiny, admiring thing. He looked down at his food, something like a flush creeping over him, much to his irritation.

Fortunately, she did not seem to notice. She just made a face before opening her bottle and taking a long swig. “I hear the queen comes today,” she said. “She wants to see how we are settling in. Truthfully, there’s so much relief to be off the ship that it’s kind of funny. The fresh air does the people good. It’ll be hard to get back on to continue the journey.”

“Well, Heliopolis is not far,” he reminded her, taking another bite of bread. “It won’t be long now until we reach Midgard.”

“We,” she repeated, tilting her head at him. “So you have decided to stay?”

Loki shook his head, which made him slightly dizzy. What _didn’t_ make him dizzy right now? “Slip of the tongue.”

“And where will you go?” She took a bite out of her peach, never taking her gaze off of him. Something about her stare made him uncomfortable, as if she were seeing him from the inside out. He shifted slightly in his chair, wanting to look away but found he was unable to allow her to have the upper hand. Loki’s lips tilted at the corners.

“Why? Planning to pay me a visit wherever I end up?” he asked. “I’m flattered that you care.”

Valkyrie swallowed, then took another bite of her peach. “I told you, I don’t care to be on bad terms.”

“So what does that make us? _Friends_?” Loki scoffed.

“God forbid you have one,” she agreed, licking juice from the peach off of her fingers between bites. “Why does the idea bother you so much?”

Loki shrugged. Keeping people at a distance was a habit so ingrained in him that he never stopped to question it. “You’re Thor’s friend, not mine,” he reminded her.

“Can I not be both?”

Loki snorted a laugh. No one had before. He did straighten his posture then, carefully sitting up. “I don’t see why you’d want to be.”

“Then I certainly can’t convince you.” Valkyrie shook her head and downed the remainder of her drink. She hopped to her feet, taking one last bite of her peach before tossing the pit into the waste. “See you, Loki.”

And then she was gone, leaving Loki to ponder what had just transpired and why, somewhere down in his core, he felt disappointed that she had given up so easily.  

* * *

Briony and Ailidh arrived in the late morning. Thor, Loki, and Valkyrie waited just inside the gates of the stronghold, outside of the officers’ house. Heimdall had accompanied Saija and the healers back to the hospital, and it was too cold for Bruce to spend much, if any, time outdoors.

In truth, Loki should not have been with them either. Thor had wanted him to remain in bed, until the worst of his spell-sickness had passed, but Loki refused to lay around like a helpless, wilting flower. He had to focus all of his energy on not swaying where he stood, but at least he stood. Thor had only relented on the condition that Loki agree to take his leave if he felt like he was going to be ill.

Ever the older brother, Loki thought with irritation. Thor used to hover about the same way when they were children, whenever Loki fell ill or was injured in some way. He knew Thor meant to be comforting, but it only served to remind Loki how much weaker he was. They both got hurt often, especially once they began their training, but Loki seemed to get hurt _more_ often, and took a longer time to heal.

Valkyrie, who was for once without Dagny, stood at his elbow, a little too close for Loki’s comfort. He realized why when she reached out and linked her arm with his, just as Briony and Ailidh walked through the gates.

“What are you doing?” Loki hissed.

“You look ready to collapse,” she returned. “I’m making sure that doesn’t happen.”

“I do not need –“ he began, trying to pull away, but her grip was iron strong – stronger than he was, he remembered, for she was an Asgardian Valkyrie and even if he were at his full strength, he couldn’t overpower her. He sighed, shooting daggers at her with his gaze, but she seemed unaffected.

“Good morning,” Briony called as she and Ailidh approached. Thor, who had been pointedly ignoring Loki and Valkyrie’s scuffle, stepped forward to greet them. He kissed first the queen’s hand and then Ailidh’s, his smile as bright as the day. They exchanged greetings with Loki and Valkyrie as well, and then Briony expressed an interest in meeting some of the people.

There was a wide gravel path that wound its way through the barracks and, because it was midday and bright, most of the people were outside. Children ran and played in the grass around the barracks, while adults milled about, chatting, hanging up freshly laundered clothes to dry, keeping themselves occupied and productive underneath the fresh air and sunshine.

“We want to thank you again for your hospitality,” Thor was saying as the group walked slowly through the barracks. Loki was loath to admit it, but Valkyrie’s firm grip on his arm was really the only thing helping him walk in a straight line. “It has been good for the people to feel at home.”

“We are glad to do it,” Briony replied, smiling at him. “Deaphus has been my home for my entire life. I cannot imagine what it would be like to lose everything. In the face of such devastation, I am glad we’re able to offer aid.”

“Asgard will not forget your kindness,” Valkyrie said.

“Nor will we forget Asgard’s,” Ailidh replied. “Your healers seem confident they will be able to cure the sickness that ails our people. There really is no way we can repay that.”

It was an effort not to roll his eyes. This was one of the things Loki hated about politics. While diplomacy certainly had its place, more often than not, every saccharine word dripped with insincerity. Loki certainly could not take issues with lies, but at least he had the integrity to lie with purpose. Everything that he did was deliberate, a means to an end that was usually to his own advantage.

Politicians, however, lied for the sake of it – to flatter one another, only to mock behind their backs later. They placed themselves on pedestals built of charming adulations and when the pedestals grew too high, they took pleasure in tearing them down again. For sport, for entertainment.

It made Loki ill to think of it, and though he knew Thor was genuine with his praise of the Deaphans, he could not help but wish that Thor could express that without sounding so much like Odin.

“Hey,” Valkyrie whispered, and Loki blinked. “You’re swaying. You okay?”

Why did she _care_? To win Thor’s favor by tolerating his misfit younger brother? Loki glared at her. “I am fine,” he whispered back through gritted teeth.

Valkyrie slowed her steps so that she and Loki fell a bit behind Thor, Briony, and Ailidh – far enough to not be overheard, yet not so far it would seem odd. “I’m only trying to help,” she told him, a frown creasing her forehead. “It’s this or be banished back to bedrest.”

“I never asked for your help _or_ your friendship,” he replied sharply.

“But you obviously need it,” Valkyrie countered. Her left arm was linked around his right, and she slid her hand down so that she could wrap her hand around his fingers; she extended her other arm to hold his bicep, the position pressing them unbearably close together. Loki felt a weight pressing down on him, making it hard to breathe. For some reason, the back of his throat tightened like he wanted to cry.

Valkyrie seemed not to notice his distress. She simply kept pace with him. Briony and Ailidh were listening to something Thor was saying, but Loki was no longer listening. He was too aware of the Valkyrie pressed into him, the warmth of her hand wrapped around his. “I thought I was the last person on the ship you’d want to befriend,” he reminded her, finding his voice. “Why the sudden change of heart?”

She shrugged, not looking at him. “I don’t know.” She paused, and then blew out her breath. “No, I do know. When you gave Dagny that game piece yesterday, I saw … you play it off, but I saw genuine kindness. Like you have a good heart and you’re desperate not to show it.” She scuffed one of her boots against the gravel. “It reminds me of me.”

He let out a laugh that sounded hollow even to his own ears. “I’m afraid you are mistaken,” he said, shaking his head. “Just ask Thor. I am not kind, nor is my heart anything but cold.”

“If that was true, then why did you make that piece for Dagny?”

Norns, was she ever going to let that go? “Because I was weary of the idea of her scuttling about, scared of me, for the rest of this godsforsaken trip. It served my own purpose, not hers.”

“I think that’s what you _want_ to believe,” Valkyrie replied. So swiftly he almost didn’t notice, she laced her fingers with his, somehow making her hold on him more intimate. Loki tensed even further. “Believe me, I know. I’ve been trying to convince myself for centuries that I must only look out for myself, that I didn’t care about what happened to anybody else. Drink helps.” The corners of her lips twitched. “We all have our crutches, but this whole thing … losing everything … it puts things in a little clearer perspective.”

“Well, aren’t you just the wise sage we didn’t know we needed,” Loki managed.

Valkyrie grinned. “Sarcasm is _your_ crutch, it seems.”

Before Loki could respond, there was a loud explosion somewhere to his right that left his ears ringing. Instinctively, Loki moved to shield Valkyrie from whatever was happening, but she shoved him back just as quickly, dragonfang already unsheathed.

Alarmed cries rose up from around them, mingling with deeper yells. Loki could not see where the attack was coming from. He yanked out his daggers, spinning around, just as he heard Thor shouting.

“Get down!” he was commanding, either the queen or the people or both. “It’s the Kree!”


	19. XIX.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Battle-type violence, though nothing too gruesome.

 

**XIX.**

Everything happened very fast.

The words were barely out of Thor’s mouth before Loki saw the blue-skinned, imposing figures of the Kree. They appeared from everywhere and nowhere, upon the stronghold as suddenly as if they’d materialized out of thin air. The sight of the blue skin made Loki’s heart leap into his throat. He froze momentarily before instinct and reflex took over.

“Where did they come from?” Valkyrie shouted as she plunged her dragonfang into one’s heart. She didn’t wait for an answer – not that Loki had one – before whirling to swing at a second. “Loki, get down!” she added, looking behind him.

Loki spun. The blue-skinned monster had sneaked up on him so easily that it was insulting. Muscle memory took over before Loki even realized what he was doing. A hard swing knocked the Kree to the ground. Loki leapt on top of him and drove his dagger into the creature’s gut to the hilt. The Kree barely had time to cry out before Loki’s second dagger was upon him, slashing his throat from ear to ear. He gurgled, choking on blood, before his head lolled lifelessly to the side.

Breathing hard, Loki pushed himself up. He was so dizzy he was seeing _stars_ ; he knew he had to keep moving, but his entire body felt like it was moving through sludge, every lift and turn an effort he pushed through. He grabbed the next Kree he saw, swiftly snapping his neck. The Kree thudded to the ground, and yet another one charged Loki, yelling. He swung a truncheon that Loki did not see until it was too late. It caught Loki’s jaw, sending him stumbling back. He barely managed to duck out of the way in time to dodge the second swing. Loki grabbed the Kree, using his own momentum to flip him over and slam him to the ground. A dagger directly to the heart kept him there.

Thor jogged up beside him, lightning dancing off his muscles. His eye glowed blue, fully in possession and control of his power. “Loki, get cover somewhere,” he panted, grasping Loki’s shoulder. “You’re in no condition to fight!”

Loki shoved him off. “I will not run and hide, brother,” he snapped.

“Damn your stubbornness!” Thor exclaimed, just as a Kree leaped at them. Loki let Thor take it, needing a moment to get his bearings. There was chaos everywhere. Loki took in his surroundings with a critical eye. Briony and Ailidh had both drawn weapons from somewhere and were holding their own. Some of the men and women from the stronghold were also fighting back, swinging sticks and whatever they could get their hands on, while others ushered children and the elderly into shelter in the barracks.

Loki saw Briony run a Kree clean through with her sword and felt a faint flicker of admiration for the queen. He did not linger on it; he spotted another one coming up behind Ailidh, who was locked in hand-to-hand combat with a female Kree. Without even thinking, Loki hurled one of his daggers with deadly precision. It caught the Kree in the jugular and he stumbled back, blood gushing from the wound.

Instinct stretched Loki’s hand to call his dagger back to him before he remembered he did not have his seiðr.  As Ailidh finally took out the Kree she was fighting, blood drenching the front of her dress, Loki jogged toward the fallen Kree and yanked the dagger out of his neck. He turned, briefly spotting Valkyrie now beside Thor. Loki was finding it harder and harder to tell which way was which; everything slid in and out of focus, blurring his sight.

He had an instant to curse his own stubbornness as Thor had done as he turned again, only to come face-to-face with a Kree who towered over him. One look at the beast told Loki he would not be able to overpower him, and his heart fell a bit.

He and the Kree eyed one another. Loki moved first. He swung his fist, clenched around his dagger, catching the Kree between two ribs. The Kree cried out, but the blow did not take him down. He swung back and Loki dodged it. Swing, duck, thrust, hit. Loki managed to get a few decent hits in, which only seemed to anger the Kree.

Then the Kree grabbed Loki’s collar, drawing him in close before landing a blow that sent him flying back. Loki slammed hard into the ground. His ears rang and he tasted blood somewhere in his throat. Before he could recover, the Kree hauled him back up, this time squeezing him by the throat in an iron grip that Loki could not break. He struggled, clawing at the Kree’s hands, but the Kree only gripped tighter.

Loki’s vision was growing dark. He thought he heard someone call his name, but he must have imagined it, for no one appeared. Instead, the Kree plunged a blade into Loki’s abdomen. Loki let out a cry of pain along with indignation – why did he keep getting _stabbed,_ for Norns sake? “Son of a bitch,“ he gasped out, rage suddenly giving him the burst he needed to break free.

He thrust the heel of his palm at the Kree’s throat, hard. The Kree reeled back, gasping for breath and releasing his grip on Loki. As Loki fell, he grabbed onto the Kree and pulled him down, too. They rolled, each struggling for the upper hand, daggers clashing as they parried for a weak spot. The Kree’s blade sliced through Loki’s forearm, and Loki yelped again. His fingers loosened on his dagger and it clattered to the dirt. Momentum spent, he was not even surprised when the Kree slammed him to the ground, upper hand won.

Loki waited. He simply could not fight anymore. All of the adrenaline that had kept him going was slowly receding; he was out of breath and out of tricks, left only with a body that had not been strong enough to handle the beating it had received. He felt broken and spent. He closed his eyes, wondering if death in this battle would open Valhalla to him after all. All Loki wanted, in his last moments, was to see his mother.

 _You are of Asgard, by love if not by birth,_ she’d said in his dream. As he lay there, bleeding and drained, Loki wanted to believe it. Imagine – he had survived the Void, the Titan’s Sanctuary, the Kursed’s blade … only to be felled by the dagger of a lone Kree. Loki laughed as he thought of it, for it seemed death had come for him after all and oh, how he was _ready_.

But the fatal blow did not come. There was the crackle of lightning, knocking the Kree slightly off-kilter. Loki opened his eyes in time to see Valkyrie leap up out of nowhere, driving her sword through his body. Blood spilled forth; it spilled onto Loki and the Kree fell forward, crushing Loki’s body with his own.

For a long moment, Loki was aware of nothing but silence. He could not move, not even to push the Kree’s lifeless body off of him. He groaned, suddenly seeing bright spots. The Kree on top of him made it hard to breathe – not that Loki had been breathing particularly well in the first place, what with bleeding out from his abdomen. The brightness was already receding, growing dark.

“Hey,” someone was saying. The Kree’s body was shoved off of Loki’s, and then he saw the Valkyrie kneeling next to him. “Stay with us.” Thor appeared on his other side, but already their voices were fading, mouths moving in silent words Loki cared not to hear.

He looked at the Valkyrie. Above him, the sunlight cast her in a warm, golden glow. Her dark hair loosely framed her features and her eyes were so brilliant that he could get lost in them. She was a vision straight from legends his mother used to tell him, how the Valkyrie would guide souls to Valhalla for their eternal rest. Loki lifted his hand, fingertips brushing her cheekbone. “Beautiful Valkyrie,” he murmured, “have you come to take me away?”

His fingers traveled to her hair, soft as silk. He tucked a bit behind her ear and smiled at her, only her. “There are worse ways to go,” he added, just before everything ceased to be.

* * *

He was first aware of pain. Burning, aching pain all over his body, inside and out. It was the pain that made Loki realize he was not dead, and the realization came with no small amount of disappointment. He let out a groan, slowly becoming aware of his surroundings. There were lights, bright and blinding, that seemed to be pressing down mercilessly on him from all directions. He tried to bring his arm up to shield his eyes, but something was preventing him from moving it.

“He’s awake,” someone said, and a palm brushed over his forehead. “But he’s burning up.”

Loki opened his eyes, trying to make some sense of where he was. The ceiling above him was white, with the harsh, florescent lighting of a medical bay. Not the Kallais hospital, with its gauzy white curtains billowing in the breeze. Somewhere else.

Feeling a presence beside him, he looked first to his right and saw the Valkyrie. It was her hand on his forehead, he realized, and he resisted the urge to pull away. On his left was a healer, an older woman whose name he did not know. She was doing something to the wound in his abdomen and he could feel the pain subsiding a bit.

“Wh-“ His throat was dry, and his voice barely came out as a whisper. He cleared his throat, looking at the Valkyrie, and tried again. “Where am I?”

“You’re in the infirmary,” Valkyrie answered, “on the ship.” She glanced over at the older woman, the healer, and added, “You took a pretty good beating out there, but Else says you’ll make a full recovery.”

The healer, Else, gave him an encouraging smile, but she did not stop tending to his wound, nor speak. They had taken his tunic off, he suddenly realized, to access it, and a wave of indignity washed over him. He tried to fold his arms over his chest but again realized that there was something preventing him from moving his arm the way he wanted to. A glance at it showed a large needle in the crook of his elbow.  

“Don’t tell me you’re embarrassed for your modesty,” Valkyrie scoffed, but though the words were teasing, he could interpret no mockery behind them. She reached out, laying her fingers gently on his forearm. “She needs access to the wound, Loki.”

He understood that, but he didn’t have to like it. He glared at her and then at Else, who seemed unbothered. “Where’s Thor?”

Valkyrie grimaced. She let go of his arm and moved to pull up a chair, settling in beside him. For the first time, he noticed that her face was smudged with dirt, and there was a harsh red gash along her cheekbone. “Thor is with Briony,” she responded, “and her council. Apparently, the Kree attacking Deaphus where their queen stood is frowned upon in politics.”

Loki remembered Briony wielding her sword. “She seemed to defend herself all right,” he said.

“Yes, but she shouldn’t have had to, is the point,” Valkyrie replied. “Especially since the Kree were targeting Asgard. Our presence has put a peaceful world at risk, and the queen must decide how to respond.”  

“What happened?” It seemed to him that the attack had come from nowhere – the Asgardians and the Kree had long been enemies, but rarely did they clash outright and certainly not for years. Why now, without provocation?

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “There was a lot of confusion. But we did manage to take a hostage. He’s being held in the palace’s dungeons. The rest of the Kree are either dead or have escaped.” Valkyrie made a face. “The hostage will be able to tell us more, but we’re waiting for Thor to return before questioning him.”

“What makes you think he’ll talk?” Loki asked wearily. This was the last thing any of them needed. He tried to sit up, but Valkyrie pressed her hand into his shoulder, gently but firmly pushing him back down again. He scowled at her, unsure if he was more irritated at the fact that she was acting as a nursemaid, or that she was strong enough to leave him no choice but to obey. Perhaps both.

Valkyrie shrugged. “Maybe he’ll strike a deal. As it stands, he has little to lose and everything to gain, if he talks. One thing is certain, though – I’m sure that news of Asgard’s fall has spread throughout the Nine Realms and beyond. The Kree not only knew where we were, but that we were vulnerable. Our refugees are not warriors.”

Loki pressed his lips together, nodding his agreement. The Einherjar were dead, the Allfather was dead, Asgard was gone. The once golden Realm to rule and protect over all was now a mere shard of its former glory, reduced to a ragtag band of common refugees, with only a handful of combat-trained protectors. “We may as well be sending a beacon to the universe that we are easy to conquer,” he said, exhaling a breath. Which hurt, and he grimaced. Else, who had been quietly tending to his wounds and cleaning the blood from his skin throughout their conversation, shot him a warning glance.

“Try not to move too much, Prince Loki,” she said, as she finished bandaging the wound. “I have begun the healing process and you will be all right in a day or so, but you are still fragile now.”

He bristled, both at the word _fragile_ and the title of _prince_. But it was not her fault, and he forced a nod of acknowledgement. “Thank you, healer,” he said. “Else.”

She smiled and reached out, gingerly touching the scar on his chest. “What happened here?”

Loki could feel his jaw tighten. “It’s not important. It’s an old wound.”

“It may be an old wound,” she said, “but it is poorly healed. You should not have such a terrible scar.”

Loki pressed his lips together, resisting the urge to fold into himself, to cross his arms and cover it up so that their eyes would not see. “It’s nothing,” he said again, more firmly. His tone, combined with the look he gave her, made Else step back a little. She hesitated, but then finally nodded, accepting his word.

“Very well, my prince. We are going to keep you here for the night, to help get your strength back as well as treat the wounds you received today. I will be back soon with some soup.” She gave a slight bow and then retreated, her footsteps echoing behind her as she left.

Loki and Valkyrie were alone. The infirmary, one of the more spacious rooms on the ship, had about four beds available. Loki took one, while another held a sleeping occupant who had not stirred since Loki awoke. The other beds were empty. The silence that enveloped them in Else’s wake felt heavy. Loki remembered what he’d said just before he’d lost consciousness, how he’d touched her face and wanted to lose himself in her eyes, and a warm flush spread over his cheeks. If the Norns were kind, she would forget it ever happened.

“Were many wounded?” he asked the Valkyrie, looking back at her but not quite meeting her gaze.

Her shoulders rose and fell. “Not particularly. The Kree underestimated the force they’d need. Between us and the people who took up arms, we were able to overpower the threat before it spread. There were some minor injuries – cuts and bruises, maybe some broken bones. I expect they’ll be bringing more people here. But no, there were no terrible injuries.” She pursed her lips. “Or deaths.”

That, at least, was a relief, although he felt a flush of embarrassment at how injured _he_ had gotten. Even the common people of Asgard, with no combat training or real weapons, had managed to walk away relatively unscathed. He again tried to sit up and this time she did not stop him, only watched as he looked at the needle in his arm. It was connected to a healing elixir, a shimmering gold light flowing into his veins to restore his energy. Loki suddenly realized that he was not dizzy; the throbbing in his head was fading, retreating to the background.

He needed the elixir, if for no other reason than the sooner his energy was restored, the sooner he would be able to access his seidr. He examined the needle, taking note of its position in the crook of his elbow, hair falling over his face as he bent his head. “This is all very unnecessary,” he said to her.

“You and your stubborn pride,” she remarked, shaking her head. “Only you would be embarrassed about needing medical care. You were in no shape to even be fighting in the first place. You should take pride in how well you fared.”

That was not deserving of a response. Loki lifted his head and gestured to where he spied his tunic, folded neatly on top of a small cabinet filled with medical supplies. “Will you give me my shirt, please?”

She eyed him warily. “You’ll disturb the elixir.”

Loki scoffed. Quickly, before she could stop him, he yanked the needle from his arm, abruptly stopping the flow of medicine. Valkyrie’s eyes widened. “Are you mad?”

“Probably,” he responded with a shrug. “My shirt, please.”

Valkyrie let out an indignant huff of air but she did as she asked, marching over to grab his shirt. She practically threw it at him. Loki gingerly pulled the soft, moss-green material over his head, almost immediately feeling a sense of relief sweep through him, as if he was less vulnerable with the protective barrier of clothing shielding his skin and his injuries from view. The blood had been washed out, leaving the tunic slightly damp, but he did not care. As Valkyrie watched, Loki straightened the tunic about his body and then rolled up one sleeve. He reinserted the needle as expertly as if he’d been a healer all of his life. After a moment, the stream of elixir began again, Loki no worse for the wear.

“Oh,” said Valkyrie.

“You may think me fragile, Valkyrie,” he said, rubbing a thumb over the needle, embedding it further into his veins, “but I’m not as incompetent as all that. I know how to care for myself.”

Valkyrie just shook her head. “I don’t think you fragile,” she replied, returning to her chair with a resigned sigh. “You’re an oshredil, remember? Pretty, but stabby. And meaner than anything, when you want to be.”

“Yet imagine, you wanted to be my friend,” he said dryly.

“I do,” she agreed. She slouched back in her chair and kicked her feet up, boots resting on the edge of Loki’s bed. Dusty bits of gray gravel skittered onto the clean white sheets, but neither said anything. “Because you’re also kind when you want to be.”

Loki shrugged, fiddling with the needle. He let it go before he accidentally dislodged it, and dug his thumbnail into his palm instead, imagining he could feel a comforting, well-worn groove in the skin. “So you keep saying.”

They let a few moments of oddly companionable silence pass before Valkyrie broke it. She was staring at the tips of her boots. “Have you never had one? A friend?”

Again, Loki shrugged. Once, he’d thought Sif and the Warriors Three his friends, before he realized that they only tolerated him for Thor – they neither liked nor trusted him, and likely never had. “I had Thor,” he admitted, not looking up from his palm, “but I hated him as much as I loved him. I don’t think that counts.”

“I asked you once why you resent him so much,” she said, clasping her hands together and resting them on the top of her head. “Especially since he seems to _love_ you so much.”

Loki sighed. He let go of his hand so that he could bring it down to his abdomen, pressing against the wound lightly. “I could hardly explain a thousand years’ worth of resentment to your satisfaction,” he told her, “and I doubt you would sympathize even if I did. So why do you ask?”

Valkyrie looked at him doubtfully. “Who says I would not sympathize? Do you think me so unfeeling?”

At one point, he would have. When they’d first embarked on their journey, she’d put a lot of effort into keeping to herself, not socializing except for with Thor, drinking herself into stupors and scowling a lot. Something had changed over the course of months, and it had happened so swiftly that he had not even noticed. She was more open, revealing more of herself than he thought her capable of. He remembered coming upon her in the kitchen that first night in the stronghold, how her eyes had clearly betrayed her tears, as she wrestled with losing her Valkyrie sisters, including her lover, in what ultimately was a suicide mission.  

“No,” he heard himself admit. “I do not think you unfeeling. Rather, I am often told that my resentments for Thor are petty and small, that I have no right to my rage.” He paused, and a smile flitted across his lips – a smile of resignation, a smile without humor. “Thor once told me that all of my slights were _imagined_.”

There were some words that rang in Loki’s head, somewhere in the back, certain words seared into his soul that he would never forget, not if he lived four thousand more years.

 _You take the world I love as recompense for your imagined slights,_ Thor scoffed.

 _Your birthright was to die,_ Odin spat.

He was an imposter, a forger of lies, no true son of Odin or prince of Asgard, a runt weakling whose life’s purpose, if not to die, was to live in Thor’s shadow and be _grateful_ for it – Odin had done him a favor in picking him up from that frozen rock, after all, taking him to Asgard instead of bashing Loki’s soft, infant head against the rocks like he should have.  

“Likely because Thor just doesn’t understand them,” Valkyrie replied. “It’s not his fault. He has never been made to feel less-than, to be thought inferior.”

“No, he hasn’t,” Loki agreed. And there was the spark of bitterness, a spark that he was beginning to think would never fade. It would haunt him alongside the worst words hurled at him in anger, resentment and spite taking up residence inside of him. He was _made_ of bitterness and envy. “Thor was always the sun, and the sun does not give thought to those standing in its shade.”

“Just because the sun doesn’t notice doesn’t mean those people are not there,” she pointed out. She dropped her hands, clasping her fingers together. “Do you remember how I said that Maj’s family became mine? That I had no real family of my own?”

Loki eyed her warily, and then nodded.

Valkyrie suddenly looked uncomfortable, as if she either wished she had not brought it up or wished she had a drink with her to get her through it. She got up from her chair and crossed over to one of the medical cabinets, examining the supplies. “My mother,” she said, “was a noble. Not royalty, of course, but still high-born. A _lady,_ in every sense of the word. I had two brothers, but I was her only daughter. She wished to raise me a fair maiden to make a good match at court. Hours and hours which would add up to years and years if I did the math were spent learning etiquette, how to sit, how to stand, to curtsy and say _yes, please; no, thank you, yes, sir; no, sir_.”

She sighed and turned away from the cabinet, only to lean against it and fold her arms. She still wasn’t quite looking at him, but despite himself, Loki could feel himself growing interested in her story, sympathetic to her upbringing, for the rigid constraints of being raised in nobility were not foreign to him in the least. He, at least, had the advantage of being male. Women were viewed as decoration, and for them, ambition meant securing a position as a lady-in-waiting, the honor of that status hoisting a woman up above her peers at court. There were the few who fought their way to political positions, of course, or into the warrior class, like Sif. But it was notoriously difficult for a woman to step above her place. Most never even tried.

After a silence, Valkyrie continued. “I was not born to be a lady,” she said, a hint ruefully. “I was loud, crass, awkward and rough. I wanted to tumble with my brothers in the dirt, not sit prettily at tea with my hands in my lap. A common tale, I’m sure, but I am well-familiar with playing the role of the inferior, being made to feel less-than simply for being myself. My mother's disappointment knew no bounds.”

“I imagine so,” Loki heard himself agree. “But something must have changed. You’re not married off into a noble family – not that you’ve told us, at least. You’re a Valkyrie.”

“Yes.” Valkyrie moved again, returning to her chair. She began fiddling with long strands of dark hair, gathering a section between her fingers and beginning to plait absently. Loki remembered how soft it had felt in his fingers. “We had a …. falling out, of sorts. I’d rather not go into details, if it’s all the same to you, as they’re quite painful to remember and even more so to talk about. The result is the same: I renounced my family, left home, and earned my place among the Valkyries.”

Loki nodded slowly. He was curious about the details, especially since she did not want to give them. What had it taken to break her, to break the bonds of family that ran as deep as blood? When had she decided enough was enough? What was her _moment_ – the moment like Loki’s, crying in his father’s Vault as he learned that he was no more valuable than a relic to suit the king’s purpose, that he never was and never would be Loki, son of Odin?

She was plaiting another section of her hair. Loki watched her fingers move deftly through the strands and he tried to picture her young, tried to picture her sadness, her sense of inferiority. He found that he could not. All he could see was the Valkyrie she was now, tall and strong and proud – not without her demons, but not crushed under the weight of them. A warrior without a name.

Valkyrie looked up, as if feeling his gaze on her. For a long moment, they looked at one another. There was an understanding there, and Loki did not know if it was because of her tale or because he was letting himself see it for the first time, but he _felt_ it in his bones. He felt the possibility of someone who understood, someone who hid her heart except to those she wished to see it, and though what she showed was bruised and worn it was still intact. There was the possibility that she could teach him how she’d done it – how she’d sewn her heart back together and maybe he could do the same to his own.

Overwhelmed, Loki broke the gaze first. He looked down at his hands, clasping his fingers together. Long, thin fingers, nothing like Thor’s. “Thank you,” he said, “for telling me.”

“Thank you for listening,” she replied quietly.

Together, they sat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Valkyrie's "backstory" has been invented by me for the sake of this story, and doesn't reflect any backstory (besides what was shown in Ragnarok) that may be canon in the comics or upcoming movies (should we be blessed with her again).


	20. XX.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not going to pretend that this chapter wasn't influenced by my recent viewing of IW. There are no spoilers, but the boys did get a little more feels-y than I intended. So, there's that. 
> 
> Also, I originally intended this to be 25 chapters, but I have changed my mind on the direction of some things and am reworking the outline, so the final number of chapters will change. I will update the number when I have a better idea of how long it will be.
> 
> Finally, feel free to follow me on [tumblr](http://iamanartichoke.tumblr.com). I'd love some tumblr friends. :)

 

  **XX.**

As promised, Else allowed Loki to leave the infirmary the next day, although she made him promise he would “take it easy” and rest. The elixir had soothed his wounds and restored his energy enough that he could walk in a straight line without dizziness and could even feel faint flickers of his seiðr returning tentatively to his core. But, as Else was quick to remind him, he was not nearly recovered enough to continue normal activities. Loki took that to mean he should avoid fighting, should the need for battle arise again, but Thor insisted it meant that Loki should be on bedrest until he was completely healed.

“Don’t be absurd,” Loki scoffed as he and Thor left the ship, Thor walking slowly to accommodate Loki’s irritatingly limited pace. “Do you really expect me to lay around like an invalid while the Kree plot their next ambush?”

“I expect you to have a modicum of common sense,” Thor retorted. He was as grouchy as Loki had ever seen him, and had been so since the previous night, when he’d come to visit Loki in the infirmary. _Visit_ was a generous term for what consisted mostly of yelling at Loki for fighting in his condition. “You could have been killed,” Thor had growled, and Loki waved a hand.

“I am not that fortunate, brother,” he’d said loftily, which only seemed to make Thor angrier. Nevertheless, Thor had stayed throughout the night, occupying one of the free beds, as if he thought leaving Loki in the infirmary alone would result in some life-ending disaster. Loki insisted that it was all unnecessary fretting, but Thor would not be moved.

Now, Thor’s jaw was tight and he kept clenching and unclenching his fists as they walked. “Else was clear that you are in no condition to –“

“What I am in no condition for,” Loki interrupted, “is tolerating your incessant _nannying._ May I remind you that you are not my keeper and that I have kept myself alive thus far, without your help?”

“Really, you have?” Thor lifted his eyebrows. “I seem to recall saving your life more than a handful of times, even when you seemed to want nothing more than to end _mine_.”

Loki shrugged. “If I had ever _truly_ intended to end your life, you would not be here now. Anyway, that is beside the point.”

“It is _not_ beside the point.” Thor pushed his hands over his cropped hair, letting out a sound of frustration. “Your recklessness in regards to your well-being causes worry I cannot afford right now.”

“I never asked you to worry yourself over me,” Loki retorted.

“Do you not understand that I worry whether you ask it or not?”

“That sounds very much like _your_ problem, then. Not mine.” Loki was not looking at Thor, so he was taken by surprise when Thor reached out and grabbed his arm, forcing him to stop walking. Thor yanked Loki around to face him, the electricity on his skin causing a painful jolt to go through Loki’s body.

“Let _go_.” Loki tried to wrench his arm out of Thor’s grasp. “Damn it, Thor, you’re hurting me.”

Immediately, Thor let go, but his anger did not ease. “How many more times are you going to make me watch you die?” he demanded. Loki stilled, his eyes widening. “How much must I suffer for the sake of your amusement?”

“My _amusement_?” Loki repeated incredulously.

“What else would you call it?” Thor challenged. “You care little for the actions that lead you into harm’s way, and I … I cannot bear to lose you again, Loki.” He exhaled, dropping both his eye and his voice. “I cannot.”

Loki just stared at him. Thor, in that moment, suddenly seemed like the younger brother – forlorn, lost, his shoulders hunched and his one eye very bright. It made Loki’s heart squeeze. He took a hesitant step closer to his brother, reaching out to lay a hand on his shoulder. “I am not dead, brother,” he said softly, ducking his head to catch Thor’s gaze. “I’m fine.”

Thor shook his head. “You are not. That Kree nearly killed you, Loki.” He held up a hand as Loki opened his mouth to protest, stopping the words before they could be spoken. “You don’t want to admit it because – why? You don’t want to be thought an inferior fighter?”

Withdrawing his hand, Loki’s shoulders lifted and fell again. “Perhaps.”

“Your pride will be the death of us both,” Thor said with a sigh.

“You don’t understand –“ Loki began.

“No, _you_ don’t understand,” Thor cut him off. “You could barely stand, yet you still took out … I don’t know, at least three of them that I saw, in your weakened state and without your magic. You are a more than capable fighter, Loki. But you are not invincible. Why do you insist on trying to prove that you are?”

Loki pressed his lips together and shrugged again, knowing it was not a response that Thor would accept but not knowing what else to say. How could Thor possibly understand a lifetime of being the inferior brother, the weaker warrior, the trickster whose only skill was cheating with magic rather than fighting honorably? “Because I don’t know what else to do,” he admitted, and then he turned away, walking again so that he would not have to stand there and see whatever look Thor would give him.

His abdomen was beginning to throb, and Loki gingerly pressed a hand to it, feeling the thick bandaging beneath his shirt. He heard Thor’s footsteps falling into step behind him. “What do you mean?” Thor asked.

“My entire life,” Loki said, “was spent in your shadow. My life was spent being the lesser brother.”

“Loki - ”

“No, let me finish.” Loki scuffed the tip of his boot against the pathway, nudging gravel and pebble aside. “When I fell – when I was with the Titan … ” It was the first time he’d told Thor the title, and it rushed out of him quickly. “I lost my mind, more or less. As far as I know, most of it is still out there somewhere.” A wry smile crossed Loki’s lips. “My point being, I changed in ways I cannot reverse. You and I, we have been on opposite sides of a chasm since then. Now, we are together again and I don’t know how to be your brother anymore.”

“Loki.” Thor caught up to him and matched his stride, which was not difficult in Loki’s current condition. “You have never not been my brother, not even when we were at odds. But I do not understand what this has to do with your recklessness.”

“It is just that … my instinct seems to be to return to the role I have played all along. Your shadow, your second, your inferior. But I cannot play that role anymore. I don’t _want_ that role. And the only way to step out of it …”

“Is to prove that you _can_ ,” Thor finished for him, understanding finally dawning.

“Something like that, yes.”

“Oh, Loki.” Thor blew out his breath. “No one sees you as inferior, least of all me. And killing yourself does not make you stronger than me. It makes you more dead than me.”

Loki could not deny the absurdity of it, laid out so plainly by Thor. He shook his head. “Well, as I said. My mind is not what it once was.”

Thor looked at him with such sadness then that it made Loki physically hurt. He could feel tears spring to his eyes, without even knowing why he wanted to cry. Something about this admission made him feel raw, as if he had opened up his chest and let Thor gaze directly at the shards of his heart, and Thor pitied what he saw there. They both knew that it could not be fixed – not with one conversation, maybe not with a hundred conversations. The damage was irreparable, and all they could do was try to figure out how to work around it.

“Please don’t look at me like that,” Loki said. “I cannot bear your pity.”

“I don’t pity you,” Thor countered, but he did look away. “I _hurt_ for you. I regret what you have suffered, and I wish that things were different. But I cannot make them so.”

They were nearing the stronghold, which did not look much like a battle had taken place only the day before. Whatever damage it had sustained had been cleaned up, the barracks strong enough to have held without permanent infliction. People were outside again, resuming their normal activities. The bodies of the dead Kree were nowhere to be seen. It was as if nothing had happened at all.

Thor followed Loki’s gaze as they emerged through the gates, taking in the sight of their people walking, working, playing. “Their resilience is astounding,” Thor remarked, and looked sideways at Loki with a small smile.

The door of the officers’ house swung open and Valkyrie came out, followed by Heimdall. Loki drew himself up straighter at the sight of them, instinctively wishing to conceal that he still hurt. Valkyrie rolled her eyes when she noticed his movement, indicating she saw right through him. It was irritating how well she was getting to know him. Loki scowled back at her.

Heimdall offered a smile and touched Loki’s shoulder, briefly, already drawing back before Loki had the chance to pull away. “Loki, it is good to see you well,” he said.

Loki just nodded. The walk from the ship, short as it had been, in addition to his conversation with Thor had worn him out. He could not think of a biting retort for Heimdall. Whatever healing the elixir had done would not last if he did not rest, he realized, with no small amount of dismay.

He did his best to ignore it. Valkyrie said nothing, just nudged his shoulder lightly with hers. The contact sent a jolt through him not unlike what he’d felt from Thor’s lightning, but milder, and it was not painful; it seemed to startle his nerves more than anything else, his heart skipping a beat, which he chalked up to not expecting the contact. “So,” she said, focusing on Thor, “what’s the plan, your Majesty? Are we going to question the hostage?”

“Yes. Briony wishes to convene with us and the prisoner at the palace.”

“Do you think he will talk?” Heimdall was clasping the Bifrost sword, tightly enough that his knuckles appeared strained. He must regret having been at the hospital during the attack, Loki thought; he watched and protected and waited for a fight, and was nowhere to be found when one arose. The guilt he must have felt was somewhat satisfying to Loki, in some small, petty way.

“I don’t see why not,” Thor answered with a shrug. “He is at a significant disadvantage and to withhold information would be of no benefit to him.”

“Not as long as he is kept here, but what of his release?” Loki asked.

Valkyrie glanced at him. “What do you mean?”

“The Kree are opportunistic, but also extremely militaristic,” Loki reminded her. “Undoubtedly, they attacked because they learned we were vulnerable, but they would not attack for the sake of a fight. There was a goal, and if the prisoner knows it, and his masters learn that he shared it, it would not bode well for him. Ergo, he has strong motivation _not_ to talk.”

“Well, who says we are releasing him?” Thor countered. “Not only was he part of an assault on Asgard, but his people attacked a peaceful world and could have killed its queen. His crimes on Deaphus alone would justify a lengthy prison sentence.”

“Do you propose we use that to bargain?” Heimdall asked. “Release in exchange for information?”

“I propose we keep the option in mind,” Thor said. “Ultimately, we cannot decide anything without Briony’s input. I am ready to go there if you all would care to join me.”

“Of course, my king,” Heimdall said graciously.

“Obviously,” Valkyrie added.

Thor nodded and clasped Loki on the shoulder. “You two go ahead, and I will catch up,” he told them. Neither brother spoke until Heimdall and Valkyrie were a fair distance away, and then Thor turned a pleading look upon Loki.

“I know you want to come,” he said, “and I will not stop you, if it’s what you truly want to do. But I’m asking you, Loki, to just … can you humor me, just this once? Go inside and get some rest. I promise, brother, I will tell you everything that transpires and welcome your counsel … but for now, will you please do this one thing for me?”

Loki’s shoulders were stiff, his jaw so tight that it hurt. He wanted to refuse, wanted to insist that he accompany Thor to the dungeons and hear for himself what the prisoner had to say. But Thor was looking at him so pleadingly, once again looking like the younger of the two. _Damn your sentiment, Thor,_ he thought, and sighed. “Fine.”

Thor’s expression immediately brightened, and he stepped back, as if to question it would immediately make Loki change his mind. Which, admittedly, it probably would. “Thank you, Loki,” he said, and then moved in again, grabbing his brother in a quick hug which Loki did not return – whether it was from surprise or annoyance, he couldn’t have said, but he just stood stiffly until Thor let go.

“Don’t worry,” Thor said, glancing toward Heimdall and the Valkyrie. Loki had not realized his gaze had drifted in their direction. “She won’t think less of you for staying behind.”

Loki glanced back at Thor sharply. “Why should I care what she thinks?”

Thor tilted his head, and then grinned. “Beautiful Valkyrie, indeed.”

Face flushing, Loki shot Thor a look that could have killed. “Remember what I said before about not intending to end your life? I take that back.”

The sound of Thor’s laughter still rang in his ears when he turned to stalk inside the house.


	21. XXI.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is what happens when IW sends me into such a spiral of depression that my brain can't angst anymore, and therefore the characters get to enjoy a weirdly normal day. I apologize for this chapter.

 

**XXI.**

Sitting idly had never been something Loki was very good at. He needed motion and activity, even if the motion was simply turning the pages in one of his many books, the activity his mind soaking up knowledge and spells to be used later, when he found the need.

He had already grown bored with the books in the living room, as there was only so much interest he had in Deaphus’s history and military tactics. He spared a mourning thought – not the first – for the library in Asgard’s palace, where he’d spent most of his spare hours, surrounded by thousands of books, on every topic he could imagine. While Thor sparred and battled and sought adventure, Loki found refuge among the stacks, in an overstuffed chair, or in an alcove by a window overlooking the palace gardens.

The most precious books were safe, of course. Loki had long ago hidden them away among his most important personal effects in his interdimensional pocket. But he could not access the pocket without his magic. He realized that this also meant he could not access the Tesseract, which left him feeling ill at ease. He had not been planning to use it for anything yet – the time for that was still to come – but there was a certain reassurance in knowing it was within his grasp and could be called forward in an instant.

Loki absolutely despised the loss of his seiðr. He was spell-sick so infrequently that it was all too easy to forget how frustrating it was. Physical sickness aside, his magic was like Mjolnir, an extension of himself like a limb or a weapon. It was even more so than Mjolnir, in fact. Thor’s hammer was a conduit for his power, a weapon to channel lightning and thunder and rage and bloodlust, but Thor could set it aside when he did not have use of it and be no worse for the wear. Even with the weapon destroyed, Thor could still channel his power.

Seiðr, on the other hand, was no conduit – it was the power itself, like one of his organs that pulsed inside of him, doing whatever it needed to do to keep his body functioning without his even being aware of it. It was a weapon for battle, yes, but it was so much more than that. It was the force that fed his every movement, the ground on which he kept himself steady. It was a habit, a constant companion, his only lover; it was the thread that wove his soul into his bones. If Loki were Yggdrasil, then his seiðr made up the branches, and without the spark of magic to bind him tight, he was simply a floating mass of untethered sticks left to drift aimlessly through space and time.

His heart needed his seiðr like his lungs needed air, and the loss of it hurt more than any physical wound ever could. There were only a few times that he had been without his magic – the times he pushed too far and made himself spell-sick; the time during which he was brought back to Asgard as a prisoner; and the time he had spent with the Titan. The latter was a particularly devastating loss, because the Titan could suppress Loki's ability to use his magic unless he personally saw some benefit of it, and then he released his hold only so Loki could do his bidding. That was the one thing in the universe worse than losing his magic – being forced to use it in ways he could not control.

Thor, Heimdall, and Valkyrie had barely been gone half an hour before Loki felt himself going a little stir-crazy, dwelling on the loss of his magic. He laid on his bed, staring at his ceiling until it blurred before his eyes, and then he went back downstairs to the living room, where Bruce and Dagny were relaxing. Bruce, for once, did not seem to be studying – he was laying on the sofa under what seemed like an absurd amount of blankets, palm covering his eyes as he dozed. Dagny was laying on the floor not far away, apparently playing _hnefatafl_ against herself. The board she and Valkyrie had made looked to be complete, if a bit plain. She was using rocks of varying sizes as pieces, and Loki was pleased to see that she was also using the lucky king-piece he’d given her.

Loki had long ago mastered the art of sneaking into a room undetected. Even with his injuries, which caused him to move more gingerly than usual, he was light on his feet, and neither Bruce nor Dagny noticed him until he was practically in the middle of the room. “Well, you two are certainly a lively bunch,” he said, gravelly voice cutting through the silence, and was amused to see Dagny flinch while Bruce jolted awake.

“God!” Bruce complained, rubbing his eyes and shooting Loki an irritated look. “Could you make a noise or something? Maybe wear a bell around your neck? You’re like Michael Myers just standing there like that.”

“Is that some sort of Earth reference I’m meant to understand?” Loki asked, sitting down in an armchair near the bookcase.

“It’s a movie.” Bruce sighed, pulling himself into a sitting position and adjusting his blankets. “Michael Myers is this serial killer who stalks around silently in the dark before, uh, you know …” Bruce cast an uneasy glance at Dagny. “Murdering people.” He looked back at Loki. “You can see why I’d draw the comparison.”

If it was meant to be a barb, it rolled off of Loki’s back. “I never hid in the dark before murdering people,” he retorted.

“What’s a movie?” Dagny asked lightly, but Loki caught the wary look she tossed his way.

“Uh, it’s a story, like a book or a play, but you watch it on this thing called a television,” Bruce told her. “Or, well, I guess you’d see it in a movie theater first.”

“And what’s a television?”

Bruce’s forehead creased as he tried, much to Loki’s amusement, to figure out a way to explain a television to someone who had absolutely no frame of reference. “It’s like a box – an electronic box – and it works by receiving, uh, picture signals and broadcasting them anywhere in the world. People use it to watch movies and television shows. Like stories, you know?”

Dagny’s brow furrowed. “So, it’s a box that tells stories?” she clarified, tilting her head to the side.

“Kind of.” Bruce glanced at Loki a bit helplessly, as if he thought _Loki_ could explain it any better.

“You see, Dagny,” Loki said, getting a kick out of _all_ of this, “human lives are so short that they have this desperate need to influence their culture for the next generation and the next after that. This need results in many silly inventions that make their lives easier. They have not yet managed to figure out an effective means of space travel, but they have devices like the television, which the humans just use to watch plays without leaving their homes.”

“That’s totally not –“ Bruce began.

“But isn’t half the fun of watching plays getting to leave your home?” Dagny asked, over him. She was fiddling with her king-piece, turning it over and over in her hands. “When we would go to the theatre, we’d get to dress up and have a special _náttmál_ and it was always … a lot of fun.” She dropped her gaze, as if suddenly remembering that her days of watching theatre and eating special meals with her family were over, never again to be reclaimed.

Before she could do something truly horrifying like cry, Loki spoke up. “That _is_ half the fun,” he agreed, “but humans don’t see it that way. They are a very baffling people. They like watching televisions inside of their homes. They have little devices they use to play music that no one else can hear, and they build great, tall buildings called skyscrapers, where they live – many, many people can all live inside the same skyscraper, because they don’t have room to live anywhere else.”

Dagny’s eyes widened, as if she were trying and failing to picture such a thing.

“Hey now,” Bruce cut in. “First of all, Loki, New York City is hardly representative of the entire human race, and second of all, I’m surprised you noticed anything about it, considering you were leading the army of the apocalypse at the time.”

Loki shrugged. “I’m a very observant person.”

Bruce rolled his eyes. “Don’t listen to him,” he told Dagny. “I mean, he isn’t wrong, exactly. People do like to watch television and some people live in apartments in skyscrapers, but that’s only a small percent of people. There are a lot of good things about Earth, too. For instance, have you ever had ice cream?”

“No. What’s that?” Dagny propped her chin on her palms, propped up by her elbows.

“It’s a dessert, cold and frozen and delicious. They make it in every flavor you can think of. Chocolate and vanilla and mint and butter pecan. And the ocean … there are places on Earth where you can walk right up to the ocean and when you stand very still on the shore and let the waves wash over your ankles, you can feel the sand sinking under your feet. You can swim with dolphins, and ride a bicycle, and jump on trampolines until you’re dizzy. It’s enormous fun.”

Dagny looked absolutely enchanted. “Oh, I can’t wait to do that!” she exclaimed. “What’s a bicycle?”

Instinctively, Loki lifted a hand to conjure up an illusion of a bicycle, but nothing happened; the space above his palm remained empty. “It’s a strange contraption with two wheels,” he said, aware that his explanation of the bicycle was not any better than Bruce’s of television.

“How do you know so much about Earth, anyway?” Bruce asked, giving Loki a sidelong glance.

“As a prince of Asgard, I’ve found it imperative to be educated about all of the Nine Realms,” Loki responded. “Obviously.”

“Thor doesn’t seem to have had the same need,” Bruce pointed out.

“Well, Thor’s always been a little thick-headed.” Loki folded his arms over his abdomen, feeling a twinge as the motion gave the faintest pressure to his wound.

“Thor is _king_ ,” Dagny informed Bruce, with such earnest reverence that it made Loki want to laugh. Oddly, he did not resent the revere in which the child held Thor; rather, he found it somewhat endearing that she was still young enough to believe her king could do no wrong. Despite the losses she had suffered, she did not blame the crown.

Odin’s secrets had led to the ruin of Asgard, but with Odin dead, only Thor and Loki remained to represent the royal family – much as Loki did not consider himself a prince anymore. He did not know how much the people blamed them, if at all, but his cynical side suspected that they would, once shock had worn off enough for them to truly reflect on the events. When that time came, they would have nowhere else to direct their blame but on Asgard’s heirs.

But Dagny, for now, remained a loyal subject. “Anything he needs to know, he will learn,” she went on.

“That’s right,” Loki agreed. He nodded toward the game board. “How’s your game?”

Dagny glanced at the board and shrugged. “Fine. It’d be more fun if I had someone to play with, though.” She dropped her gaze, tilting her head to look at Loki from beneath lowered eyelashes, the result a forlorn, puppy-dog look that had likely bowled over lesser men in mere seconds.

Including Bruce, who immediately said, “I can play with you, if you show me how it’s done.”

“All right,” Dagny agreed, “and then Loki can play the winner.”

Loki lifted his eyebrows. “Oh? I don’t remember agreeing to play.”

“Humor her,” Bruce whispered as he got up and moved past Loki to sit on the floor with Dagny. He looked a little wobbly, Loki noticed, but did not pause to question it. He simply settled back in his chair, watching as Dagny explained the rules of the game to Bruce, who caught on fairly quickly, Loki had to admit.

Dagny decimated him easily enough, and when the game ended, Dagny said, “Okay, Loki’s turn,” and Loki sighed as if he were very put-out, but he did get up and join them on the floor, situating himself carefully so as not to jostle his wounds.

They played for the better part of the afternoon. At first, Loki allowed Dagny to win – he was not obvious about it, simply ignored moves he could have made or accidentally chose the wrong move a couple of times. At the game’s conclusion, however, Dagny glared at him and said, “I don’t want to win if you’re just going to _let_ me,” and Loki had been so taken aback both by the fact that she’d noticed and that she’d challenged him on it that he played the next game straight, and won. Loki also beat Bruce easily, and they continued the pattern – Dagny would beat Bruce, and then Loki would beat Dagny, and then he’d beat Bruce, and they’d start over again.

By the time Thor, Heimdall, and Valkyrie returned, Bruce was refusing to play any more rounds, while Dagny insisted that she was going to beat Loki before the end of their trip.

“You’re welcome to keep trying,” Loki told her with a genuine smile, and she returned it, clutching her king-piece close.

“Wow,” Thor said from near the door; Loki had noticed them coming in, of course, but only when Thor spoke did Loki look up and acknowledge him. He climbed unsteadily to his feet, favoring his abdomen. “I haven’t seen you play that game in … centuries, I think,” Thor went on, gesturing toward the board with his eyebrows lifted at Loki.

“It lost its appeal,” Loki said simply, stepping away from the board. “But since you insisted I stay behind today, I had precious little else to do.”

“I think it’s nice,” Valkyrie remarked, striding past Loki and pausing to bend and tug at Dagny’s plaits. She straightened again and added, “Who else is hungry? I’m famished.”

Loki watched her disappear into the kitchen, followed by Dagny, and then looked back at Thor, who had a tiny, amused smile on his lips that made Loki bristle. “How did the interrogation go?” Loki asked, ignoring it.

“It could have gone better,” Heimdall answered, shrugging out of his cloak and hanging it on a hook near the door. “The prisoner was not very forthcoming.”

“By which, he means that the prisoner was not forthcoming at _all_ ,” Thor added with a sigh. “So we are no closer to figuring out why the Kree attacked.”

“Do you think they’ll strike again?” Bruce asked, settling back into the sofa with his blankets.

“It’s impossible to say.” Thor frowned, tilting his head. “Banner, are you all right? You look … cold.”

All eyes turned to Bruce, who was pulling one of his blankets around his shoulders. He nodded, but he did look uncomfortable and a bit more unsteady than he’d seemed before. “I’m all right,” he said, “but I may have overestimated how long I could tolerate being here. Humans were simply not built for this type of environment.”

Heimdall and Thor exchanged a glance, while Loki folded his arms and stared at Bruce. “How much longer do you think you can handle it?” he asked, voicing the question written on all of their faces.

Bruce shrugged, pushing a hand through his graying hair. “I don’t know. A few more days.” He straightened, forcing a smile onto his face. “But, look, don’t worry about me. I’m all right for now, and if that changes drastically … well, we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

Thor was still watching Bruce uneasily, his arms folded tightly across his chest, but he nodded. “Well, let me get you something warm,” he offered, and inclined his head toward the kitchen. “Maybe some soup?”

“That would be great,” Bruce said gratefully.

Thor smiled at him and then glanced at Loki. “I can bring you some, too, brother,” he added. “You really shouldn’t be on your feet.”

“For Norns’ sake, Thor, I’ve been resting all day,” Loki said, irritated. “I’m fine.”

“All right, all right.” Thor made a face at him and then turned to follow Valkyrie into the kitchen, Loki trailing behind him.

In the kitchen, Dagny was sitting on the counter while Valkyrie moved around her, preparing a meal of vegetables and bread while she took swigs straight from a rather large decanter filled with dark liquor. Loki noticed the look of dismay on Thor’s face at Valkyrie’s drinking, but he said nothing, simply moved around her in order to find a pot to begin preparing Bruce’s soup.

Loki leaned against the threshold, folding his arms carefully. “So, he didn’t talk at all?” he asked, lifting his eyebrows.

Thor sighed and shook his head. “Not about anything important. He did not say who sent him or why, but he did say that Asgard’s fall meant its enemies would be circling.”

“When we pressed on what he meant by that, he clammed up,” Valkyrie added. She gulped a long sip from her decanter and then set it down so that she could use both of her hands to slice her vegetables. Her hands were shaking, Loki noticed, and she already seemed a bit wobbly. Before he even realized what he was doing, he’d crossed over to her and gently tugged the knife from her hand.

“Hey,” she protested.

“You’re going to lose a finger or something,” Loki explained, handing her the decanter and nudging her out of the way so that he could take over the cutting.

Valkyrie huffed, but did not move to take the knife back. Instead, she leaned one elbow on the counter next to Dagny, allowing the child to reach out and begin playing with her ponytail. “Briony was none too pleased, we can say that much,” Valkyrie added. For some reason, she and Thor looked at each other then and laughed.

“What,” Loki asked irritably, not liking being on the outside of whatever joke they shared.

Valkyrie just snorted and took another swig of her drink. “Tell him what she said, Thor,” she urged, and began to laugh again.

Thor was looking through the various spices in the pantry, but when he turned, the grin on his face was very amused and very unmistakably Thor. Loki had not seen Thor grin like that since before Asgard’s destruction, he realized. The sight of it made Loki wish he could stop time just to keep it there, warming all of them with its glow.

Thor, it seemed, was not the only sentimental one.

Annoyed with his train of thought, Loki just sighed. “Well, brother? Don’t disappoint your audience. What did the queen have to say?”

“She threatened to dismember him where he stood, and then send the pieces back to the Kree,” Thor answered, and his grin widened. “She didn’t even blink when she said it.”

“I’m pretty sure he wet himself,” Valkyrie cut in, and collapsed into another fit of giggles. “And _Thor_. Thor looked like he wanted to ask her to marry him right then and there.”

Loki lifted his eyebrows at Thor, who was shaking his head, still smiling. “It was equal parts terrifying and arousing,” he admitted, and Loki wrinkled his nose.

“May I remind you there’s a child present?” was all he said, slicing into a carrot. Dagny was still fiddling with Valkyrie’s hair, quiet in their presence. Thor had the grace to look guilty, but Valkyrie just patted Dagny’s knee.

“She’s not as fragile as all that,” she told Loki. “But if we’ve offended _your_ modest senses, feel free to say so.”

Loki rolled his eyes and finished with the carrot, then moved onto another. “It takes much more than that to offend my senses, dear Valkyrie. I grew up with Thor and assure you, as such, I’ve heard much worse.”

“That’s very true,” Thor agreed with a laugh. “Loki was often the unwilling audience to many a tale about whatever woman I fancied at the time.”

“Many a boring tale,” Loki added. Despite himself, he grinned. “Do you remember that lady-in-waiting you mooned over for at least a year?”

“Oh, yes.” Thor laughed again, deep and rumbling. “What was her name, again? Tyra?”

“Trynna,” Loki corrected. He glanced at Valkyrie, who looked very amused. “She was the only woman I know of who ever made Thor try his hand at poetry. The hours I spent listening to Thor composing sonnets, I will never get back.”

Valkyrie snorted and cracked up with such glee that even Dagny giggled.

“Well, I’m sorry that not all of us are silver-tounged,” Thor protested, filling his pot with water. “Now, _Loki_ knew how to write a sonnet. He didn’t even have to fancy anyone to write them; he did it for fun. Remember, Loki?”

Loki felt his cheeks warm and he focused very intently on chopping vegetables. “I’m positive I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you do. No one could turn a phrase like Loki Wordsmith,” Thor said. To Valkyrie, he added, “It was a phase he went through. I think you spent an entire summer in the library, brother, scribbling away at your poems.”

“Which I never showed you, so I don’t know how you can speak to their quality,” Loki said.

Thor waved a hand. “I read them when you were asleep.”

Valkyrie laughed again and, despite himself, Loki sighed resignedly. He could have been furious at the breach of privacy, but it was so long ago, long before he’d learned how to hide things in the folds of space, where they were beyond anyone’s reach, especially Thor’s. He remembered the summer in question, and was content to let Thor think it was merely a phase, but Loki had written those poems with someone in mind, and it wasn’t a woman. A silly crush on a boy at court, he thought now, hardly even worth remembering. The boy had not felt the same. It was one of the few secrets Loki had kept from Thor.

“Did I ever mention that I hate you?” he asked mildly.

“ _Hate_ is such a strong word, Loki.”

“Did I ever mention that I detest you?”

“Several times, I’m sure, just this week,” Thor said cheerfully.

“Family,” Valkyrie remarked fondly, and then took a rather large gulp of her drink.

It was all so … _normal_ , Loki thought. Very strangely normal. He and Thor, preparing the meal while Valkyrie joked with them and Dagny hung onto their every word, even if she’d become too shy to contribute herself – or simply didn’t understand half of what they said, as none of them were being particularly careful to keep the conversation on a child’s level. With the Kree attack and the hostage not being forthcoming, with Loki injured and Valkyrie drunk and Thor stressed, the mood should have felt darker. More tense, perhaps.

But it was as if they had silently and simultaneously agreed to set aside their problems for the night, lest they let themselves be driven crazy with the worry of them. When _náttmál_ was ready, they brought it out to the living room to share with Bruce and Heimdall. After they’d eaten, Thor wanted to play _hnefatafl_ , which started up another few rounds of challenges, with Valkyrie losing very quickly, Loki winning very quickly, and the others hovering somewhere in the middle. Loki caught Thor look at him curiously when he noticed Dagny’s special king-piece, and Loki just shrugged in response.

Dagny triumphed over Thor once, and then promptly looked torn between glee and worry that she’d beaten the king, but Thor only smiled at her and congratulated her on a battle well-fought. Once or twice, Loki and Valkyrie’s eyes met, and each time, Loki felt that uncomfortable, heart-skipping feeling that had washed over him earlier when she’d nudged him with her shoulder.

It was such a mundane, light-hearted evening that Loki fell asleep relatively quickly that night. It could have been his first peaceful night’s sleep in weeks, if the Norns were kind. But as they had proven time and time again, they did not favor Loki, and he startled awake in the middle of the night, screaming from his worst nightmare yet.

 


	22. XXII.

 

 

**XXII.**

_It feels real. It feels horrifyingly, overwhelmingly real. Darkness surrounds him, the sky blacker than the darkest night. There are craters and cliffs of pale rock jutting up toward the sky; there is the Other holding Loki down, smiling as he screams. He is burning Loki’s skin but the fire is in his veins, licking his insides._

_The burning is only one part. They – the Other, the Titan, his children – seem to delight in finding more ways to cause him pain. They must dismantle him completely in order to put him back together as they see fit. He must be ready, the Titan says, for his greater purpose. Salvation comes at a price and to be saved, he must pay in full._

_The Titan is inside of his mind. He likes to play there, likes to pluck Loki’s worst fears out like candy and set them upon him to beat him down, demolish him over and over until Loki no longer fears them. Fear is weakness, fear is failure. The Titan presses his fingers to Loki’s skull and the world is white-hot, blinding agony._

_He rearranges Loki’s memories, empties him of his longing for home and fills him back up again with a desire for vengeance, lust for power, belief that only when Loki has satiated this craving will he know peace._

_He cannot escape. They break him and break him again, but they do not let him leave for Midgard this time. When he gets to that point, time stops and rewinds and it starts all over again, an endless loop of fire and blood and pain. He is trapped and he will never be free; he will know suffering intimately, every second until the end of eternity and perhaps even longer. Loki cannot take it – he screams until his throat is raw, until he feels bile coming up and heaving out._

_Loki cannot stop screaming, clutching his head and pulling at his own hair, feeling the madness seep into him, overtaking him. It will never end. It will never end. It will never end._

He jerked awake with a gasp on the end of a scream, hardly realizing that his dream had carried over into the waking world until he became aware that Thor was above him, saying his name, trying to pull him from his torment. Loki was struggling against him, drenched with a cold sweat. “Thor,” he gasped out, scrambling to sit up, trying to get away from Thor at the same time that he needed to grasp onto him, needed to see that his brother was solid and real.

Thor seemed to understand without Loki saying anything. “I am here, Loki,” he said, wrapping his large arms around Loki’s trembling frame. “Hey. Everything’s all right, I’m here.”

Slowly, things began to come into focus. He recognized the bedroom he and Thor shared, the window that looked out over the fields, the doorway into the hall and the doorway to the bathroom. He became aware of his body – his struggle had irritated his abdomen wound, a burning throb pulsing under the bandage. His breathing was beginning to even out, to slow from the heaving gasps; he pushed his hands into his hair, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes as he let out a sob, the sound strangled and broken. “I’m sorry,” he managed, shaking his head. “I didn’t mean to wake you. Did anyone -?” He did not know how loudly he’d screamed, or how many times, but if anyone besides Thor had heard him, he would be humiliated. It was bad enough for Thor to hear.

Thor shook his head, smoothing some of Loki’s hair back from his face. “No one heard. It wasn’t that bad.” His voice was quiet, gentle in a way Loki rarely heard it. “I was in and out of sleep, anyway.”

“Oh.” Loki exhaled a long breath – and then, to his dismay, he began to cry. Not heaving, wracking sobs – Loki’s tears had always been the silent kind, the ones that snuck up on him without warning and that he could not seem to hold back, no matter how hard he tried. They were the kind that did not come often, but when they did, it felt like something inside of him had been jarred loose, like his lungs were collapsing. His breathing hitched and he dropped his forehead to Thor’s shoulder, too embarrassed to even attempt meeting his brother’s gaze. “I’m sorry,” he said again, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Don’t apologize.” Thor’s hand moved from Loki’s hair to his back, rubbing small circles between his shoulder blades. Loki remembered that as a child, Thor used to have terrible nightmares. Thor, who in his waking hours sought stories of beasts and battle, who only devoured storybooks if they were about heroes besting terrible dragons or dark elves or goblins, winning the hand of a beautiful maiden as a reward, would wake screaming and crying in the middle of the night when the images of his stories took on grotesque lives of their own.

Loki would scoff at his brother’s overactive imagination, occasionally. More often than not, though, he disliked seeing Thor afraid. To see Thor fearful was to see constellations disintegrating into dust – it was a thing that simply was not supposed to happen, and if it did, it meant that the world had gone terribly wrong. To fix it, Loki would climb into Thor’s bed, hug him close, rub circles in his back exactly the way Thor was doing now.

It was only a couple of minutes before the tears slowed, but it felt like an eternity. When he felt like he could compose himself, he pulled away from Thor, rubbing his eyes and swallowing a few times.

“All right?” Thor asked.

Loki nodded, looking anywhere but at his brother.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“I would very much _not_ like to talk about it,” Loki said flatly. He moved away, pressing his back to the wall and drawing his knees up. “That shouldn’t have happened,” he went on after a moment, staring at his knees. The sharp angles of his kneecaps were outlined against his sleep pants. “Normally I have a spell …”

“A spell?” Thor asked, tilting his head.

“To block the sound,” he explained. “Since that night on the ship when you said you heard me, I tried to make sure it didn’t happen again. But my magic …” He trailed off, giving a small handwave. His magic was gone, his spell useless.

Realization settled over Thor, and his features collapsed into a mixture of both worry and sadness. “You shouldn’t have to use magic to hide that you have nightmares,” he said, backing up to lean against the headboard. He didn’t seem to be in any hurry to return to his own bed. “One thing I’ve learned about bad dreams is that the only way to make them stop is to get them out of your head. You need to talk about what happened to you, Loki, or your dreams will never ease.”

“I cannot.” Loki kept his gaze lowered. “What happened to me … I don’t think I can ever talk about it. I don’t have the words.”

“Can you not try?” Thor pressed.

Loki shook his head. His shoulders were stiff; he held himself rigidly, knowing he would not return to sleep tonight, but still fearful of even thinking back on the dream, lest the terror overwhelm him all over again. If he had use of his seiðr, he would press Thor’s hand to Loki’s own forehead and show him what he could not put into words, except that would mean reliving it again, awake this time, and Loki did not think he could do that, either. His hands trembled, and he folded his arms; curled up like this, against the wall, he felt very small, so small he could imagine he did not exist at all. “We have to get rid of the Tesseract, brother,” he said, when he found his voice again. “Quickly.”

Thor sighed, rubbing a hand over his eye. “Do you suggest we destroy it? I don’t even know how we would destroy an Infinity stone.”

“We can’t,” Loki said simply. “It must be sent away.”

“To where? The Collector already has one,” Thor reminded him, “so we cannot send him another. Father’s Vault was the safest place for it, but now …” He trailed off, gazing at Loki. The Vault, where all of the Universe’s most precious and dangerous relics came to rest, was beyond even the Titan’s grip. Loki’s stomach gave a twist of regret not only for what had been lost, but for his own inability to have left the Tesseract behind. He could justify the practicality of taking the Tesseract all he wanted, but the cold truth was that he’d taken it because he’d _wanted_ it.

He tried not to think on it. “The Collector is not the only being to whom we can entrust it,” Loki said, glancing back at Thor. “I know of someone. But I would need to deliver it myself.”

“No.” Thor was shaking his head even before Loki finished speaking. “I told you, we’re in this together. I’ll not have you wandering off to Norns-knows-where with the Tesseract, knowing this Titan seeks it. Do you have a death wish, Loki?”

“More often than not, to be honest.” Loki’s lips quirked, and Thor glared at him, but the flicker of amusement was gone again in an instant. “You can’t come with me, brother. The people need their king _here_. There is still the Kree to contend with, not to mention Saija’s cure.”

Thor let out a groan of frustration, rubbing his temples. His jaw tightened and he looked away, loath to admit that Loki was right. He could not abandon what was left of Asgard, not even for Loki. Loki watched him, leaning his head against the wall. His fingers itched to call for the Tesseract – not to find comfort in it, but to destroy it. He knew very well that he could not. The Infinity stones were the most powerful elements in the Universe.

But _Norns_ , he wanted to try. The dream still lingered so close to his consciousness that he could almost feel the Other’s cold breath on his neck. It made Loki’s nerves stand on edge, left him wishing to unleash every last ounce of seiðr he possessed to destroy the wretched thing.

“What if Val goes with you?” Thor asked, interrupting Loki’s train of thought.

Loki blinked, and then scowled. “Why, to protect me? I don’t need her.”

“To _fight_ with you,” Thor said, rolling his eyes. “When did you get so incredibly touchy? It’s always better to have a team, someone to watch your back where you cannot. You and Val can deliver the Tesseract and get back safely.”

It was logical, Loki had to admit. He frowned, tracing invisible lines along his kneecap. “Don’t you need her here?”

“I need both of you, if we’re being honest,” Thor replied, “but for the sake of our safety and your well-being, I can spare you.”

“Mm.” Loki did not relish being alone with the Valkyrie. They may have come to easier terms with one another, but she made him uneasy as of late. Rather, the way he responded to her made him uneasy. It was Thor’s fault, Loki thought, for planting the idea in Loki’s mind that the Valkyrie preferred him over Thor. It, too, was Valkyrie’s fault – something in him had shifted when she’d told him of her family, when he’d looked at her and saw the possibility of a kindred spirit, someone who maybe could smooth his jagged edges with her fingertips and let him do the same for her.

Sentiment, all of it. If he was not careful, he was going to find himself growing soft. Loki glanced back at Thor, who was watching him carefully. When he spoke, however, it was only to ask, “How far away is this destination?”

“Not too far to take the Commodore,” Loki relented.

“Then we will plan on it.” Thor smiled.

“It’ll be a few days,” Loki told him, shoulders slumping. “Without my magic, I can’t access the Tesseract.”

“No, and you still need to heal, anyway,” Thor agreed. “But we will make a plan, and once the Tesseract is safe and away from us … maybe then we can talk, Loki.” His voice softened. “It will get better. I promise.”

Loki met Thor’s eye, taking in his earnest resolution. His instinct was to brush off the words, to scoff at Thor’s naiveté, because Loki knew that there were some things from which there was no coming back. The Sanctuary was one of those things; it was embedded into him, and he would never truly be free.

But something stopped him from a sharp retort. Perhaps it was the look on Thor’s face, or perhaps it was because it was the middle of the night, and his nightmare had left him frayed and exposed. His defenses were lowered, in this state, and he could not deny that he wanted the safety of his older brother’s reassurance, like he wanted the comfort of Thor’s hand rubbing circles against his back. It was the closest thing to home that Loki had left, and for this reason, he chose to let himself believe that maybe, eventually, it really would get better.


	23. XXIII.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is largely narration to tie up some loose ends while Loki recovers and gains access to his magic again.

 

**XXIII.**

When morning came, neither Thor nor Loki spoke about the nightmare. Loki wanted nothing more than to pretend it had never happened. In the brand new light of day, his dream simply a shadow in the dark, he was embarrassed for how undone he’d become, how vulnerable he’d been in front of Thor. Thinking on it made him feel like his skin was crawling, like he had revealed some intimate part of himself that even he did not want to see, let alone show anyone else.

Fortunately, Thor knew Loki well enough to leave it alone. Their conversation was light, trivial, as they prepared for the day, and then, after _dagm_ _á_ _l_ , he and Thor headed to the palace in order to try, once again, to speak to the Kree prisoner.

They were received formally in the throne room. The last time Loki had seen Briony, she’d been plunging her sword through the heart of a Kree – now, she looked as daintily regal as if she’d never picked up a weapon in her life, lest she dirty her porcelain hands. There was a shadow of a crescent bruise around her left eye, however, as if she’d taken a blow there, along with a small bandage on her temple, only partially hidden beneath her hair. When she moved, it was a bit gingerly, as if she were favoring other wounds they could not see. So the queen had been injured, then, which undoubtedly made the whole incident even worse. Humans were as delicate as gnats, Asgardians much more durable, and Loki had to wonder where the Deaphans fell on that spectrum.

Bexley and Ailidh were, as ever, also present. Like Briony, Ailidh bore the evidence of the attack; there was a blossom of dark bruises not quite concealed by the neckline of her dress; stitches ran along her cheekbone. Loki glanced at Thor, whose gaze had also flickered over them critically, but his eye revealed nothing.

After greetings had been exchanged, Briony offered Loki a smile and said, “Prince Loki, I am glad to see you well.” Thor must have told her how badly he’d been injured. Loki felt a flare of irritation for that. And, Norns, he wished people would stop addressing him as _prince_. He had not been a prince since he’d fallen from the rainbow bridge; the prince had died in the void, in the Sanctuary, and they were all forced to contend with the half-mad, bitter wretch who’d returned in his place. “Thank you,” was all Loki said aloud, however. “And you as well. I’m pleased to be in fair enough condition to offer assistance in dealing with the Kree.”

Briony’s lips pursed as she nodded. “Yes. We would like to get the situation solved to everyone’s satisfaction. Unfortunately, attempts to communicate directly with Hala have proved fruitless.” Hala was the home world of the Kree. “And the prisoner still does not cooperate,” she added, with a look at Thor. Something like a smile might have passed over her lips, but it was gone again so quickly Loki ay have imagined it. “Threats of bodily harm notwithstanding.”

“Speaking of which,” Thor responded, “I might inquire as to whether we are all … in agreement, as it were, as to what his ultimate fate should be.”

For a moment, Briony regarded him, and then she nodded. She stood, her skirts rustling against the parquet. “Let’s adjourn to the council chambers,” she suggested, “so that we may talk more.”

It was a long morning, with Thor and Briony going back and forth over how best to handle the punishment of the Kree, with the others interjecting periodically. Briony felt that he should be executed for his part in an act of war against two kingdoms, while Thor insisted that there must be some other way. Personally, Loki agreed with Briony, and said as much.

“Listen,” he said, “their assault was waged not only on our sovereignty but against our civilian refugees. It is an act of war and therefore the Kree is a _prisoner_ of war, and no government would protest to see him punished. Furthermore, if the order comes from Asgard, Deaphus would not be entangled in the political implications that would come along with such a sentence.”

Thor’s shoulders slumped a bit, exhaustion seeming to creep in steadily over his features. “The prisoner could be useful as a bargaining chip,” he countered. “We might barter an exchange with his people – his safe return for cessation of hostilities. You must remember, our entire army was slaughtered. We have no resources, no land. We are in no position for war.”

“I should think not,” Bexley agreed. “However, attempts to contact his people have been unsuccessful.”

“Keep trying,” Thor replied. “The longer we deliberate, the more time passes that we are leaving ourselves vulnerable. Let us talk to him again. And it would be helpful if we did not make threats against his person,” he added, looking pointedly at Briony. “For now.”

“Fear is a very strong motivator,” she replied simply. The corners of her mouth twitched as she rose and gestured toward the pair of guards who stood by the door. “Please bring the Kree prisoner to the throne room,” she commanded. “I shall have an audience immediately.”

The guards bowed and scurried off to the dungeons. Briony set her shoulders. “Let’s hope he has something worthwhile to say.”

It did not get much better from there. When the prisoner was brought to the throne room he was draped in chains that shackled to his ankles, wrists, and waist. As soon as Loki saw him, he felt a thrum of anxiety skitter through his body. In an instant, he saw not the Kree prisoner but himself being led into Odin’s throne room. He was surrounded by at least eight Einherjar, his magic suppressed. From Hlidskialf, Odin watched Loki’s movements with silent fury and Loki remembered – even though he had done well not to show it – feeling his blood run cold as for the first time in his life, he saw not his father but the mighty Allfather of Asgard, whose wrath could know no bounds.

Before, even at his most fearsome, there was still the comfort of _father_ , the quiet reassurance that love for his family drove even his harshest punishments. As Frigga had said while Odin slept, _there’s always a purpose to everything your father does._ But Odin was no longer his father, and his love for Loki had dried up, leaving Loki not a prince or a son, but a criminal to be contended with. Nothing more.

It was in those first few seconds, when Loki and Odin stared at one another, that Loki felt such a deep anguish that he prayed – _prayed_ – that his sentence was to be execution. It would have been a _kindness_ on Odin’s part, which was likely why he had not done it, Frigga’s influence aside.

“Brother,” Thor whispered, “you look ill.”

Loki shook himself out of the vision, the memory. Odin’s throne room was no more, and the prisoner was not Loki – he was merely a Kree warrior, insignificant save for the fact that he was the only one of his raiding party left alive.

“I am fine,” Loki whispered back. But his thumbnail found his palm and he occupied himself with pressing into the skin, rubbing a groove back and forth.

The Kree prisoner would not tell them his name, but he did say that he was part of a faction that meant to see Asgard pay for its crimes against the Kree Empire. “What crimes?” Thor demanded, his rumbling voice intimidating even to Loki, but the prisoner merely lifted his chin. His hands, however, were trembling.

“Asgard’s interference in Kree affairs has led to unrest and strife among our people,” the prisoner answered, “and now we are on the brink of civil war.”

“Of what affairs do you speak?”

But the prisoner would say no more. He was buying himself time, Loki realized; he gave them just enough information to keep him alive without revealing who had sent him and his comrades, how they had found the refugees on Deaphus, nor what matters for which the Kree blamed Asgard. Loki was ready to wash his hands of the entire thing – to put the prisoner to death and be done with it. It was simple, in his point of view – the Kree held a grudge against Asgard, realized that Asgard’s fall left it vulnerable, and seized the opportunity for revenge.

Briony and Thor, fortunately, seemed to come to the same conclusion, and Briony ordered the prisoner returned to the dungeons until she said otherwise. Thor and Loki left the palace that day feeling that the matter was as resolved as it was going to get. Briony would continue to reach out to the Kree government, and the prisoner would be sentenced.

Things more or less returned to normal after that – or rather, the normal that the Asgardians had come to know during their furlough. Thor spent most of his time with the people, adjusting to his role as their king, while occasionally going to the palace to keep in contact with Briony. Heimdall seemed to take it upon himself to resume his role as Gatekeeper, this time guarding the stronghold in place of the bifrost. He stood at the entrance for hours with his sword, golden gaze everywhere and nowhere and, despite how intense his dislike of Heimdall had become, even Loki could not help but feel a strange sense of comfort and familiarity in seeing him at his post.

It was peaceful. Valkyrie divided her time between helping Thor and taking care of Dagny. When she was with Dagny, her goal seemed to be to bring the girl a little further out of her shell by taking her to play with some of the other children in the stronghold. Even Bruce ventured outside a few times, remaining long enough to write down observations about the atmosphere or the sun’s position in the sky, to examine the plants and soil and trees, before scurrying back indoors to write it all down, lest he forget what he saw. He did not seem to be getting much better, as far as looking slightly ill and far too chilled to ever be comfortable, but he did not seem to be getting worse, either, and that was something.

As for Loki, he spent most of his time alone. He humored Thor’s reminders that he needed to rest and heal, so he spent time in the house reading, or he left completely, taking long walks out to the edges of the palace grounds to watch the sea over the cliffs. A few times he helped Saija collect things from the infirmary she needed for her cure, and once he walked with Valkyrie through the barracks while Dagny skipped ahead and chatted with a brunette girl her own age.

The tranquility of it both comforted and worried Loki; so much calm in the wake of so much tragedy surely meant that it was only a matter of time before they would find themselves, once again, on the wrong side of fate.

It was four days after the Kree attack that Loki’s seiðr returned enough to allow him to attempt to use it. He sat alone near the edge of the rocks that jutted out over the water and eased himself into conjuring orbs of light. He used his mind to lift stones and pebbles, and even managed to cast a doppelgänger a few feet away. The relief at having access to his magic again was insurmountable. He was not yet at full strength, but knowing that it was coming back made him feel much more at ease, as if he’d been underwater for days and had finally broken through the surface to gasp in the fresh air.  

The return of his magic, however, also meant that it was time to deal with the Tesseract. Neither he nor Thor had spoken much of it since the night Loki told him they needed to send it away, except for Thor to let Valkyrie know they’d be needing her for a mission soon.

Loki thought of his interdimensional pocket. He tested his magic by calling forward a simple book, which almost immediately materialized in his hands in a shimmer of gold light. The pocket was no longer beyond his access, he was relieved to find, and so the Tesseract was once again within his reach. He considered this, and then sent the book back to the pocket and got to his feet, watching the water for a few minutes before he headed back to the stronghold. It was time to get rid of the Tesseract.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a whole intricate side plot worked out with the Kree prisoner, but I had a lot of trouble with this chapter because actually writing it out was boring me to tears. You know what they say - if you're bored writing it, the audience will be bored reading it. So I decided to scrap it. If the wrapping up of the Kree plot feels a little incomplete, I apologize, but I mostly wanted to get it out of the way so I could move on to writing Val and Loki's adventure across space. Because reasons. :) 
> 
> Also, feel free to follow me on [tumblr!](http://iamanartichoke.tumblr.com/)


	24. XXIV.

 

 

**XXIV.**

Valkyrie sat on top of the kitchen table drinking from her decanter, which was now filled with some kind of dark red liquor. She must have found some private stash of the Grandmaster’s on the ship that she was keeping secret, because Loki could think of no other way she could have a seemingly unending supply of drink. Already, her current drink was half gone. Loki rubbed his temples and sighed. He was not looking forward to this mission in the first place, but the idea of the Valkyrie being drunk the entire time made it even less appealing.

It would be so much easier if Thor would simply let Loki go alone. Theoretically, Thor could do nothing to stop him, but Loki knew that to do so would fracture the delicate bond they’d just started to rebuild. They were finally starting to make what could be called real progress, and Loki, for all his own cursed sentimentality, did not want to jeopardize it. They’d managed to make it a step forward, and he did not want to stumble three steps back.

Of course, that was not the only reason he did not go against Thor’s wishes. If he were truly being honest with himself, he had to admit that if he went off on his own, the temptation to not return would possibly be too great to resist. Loki suspected that Thor realized the same thing.

They three – Valkyrie, Loki, and Thor – were in the kitchen together, where Thor had gathered them once Loki told him that his seiðr had returned enough that he could access the Tesseract. Loki wanted to get rid of the Tesseract as soon as he could and on this, he and Thor were in complete agreement.

“So tell me again what these things are.” Valkyrie wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “These Infinity stones.”

Thor’s mouth was set in a hard line. He was sitting in one of the kitchen chairs, elbows resting on his knees. He glanced at Loki, who lifted his eyebrows and said nothing. Thor sighed. “They’re incredibly powerful, incredibly dangerous gems that each control some aspect of the universe – space, time, reality. Each one on its own is powerful enough, but were one being to wield all of them at once - ”

“In the wrong hands, it could be catastrophic,” Loki cut in. The hair on the back of his neck was standing up as he thought of how powerful the Titan was even without the stones. _With_ them … Loki shuddered, folding his arms more tightly.

“Even in the right hands, it would be dangerous,” Thor pointed out. He straightened, mirroring Loki’s folded-armed pose.

Valkyrie’s glance slid from Loki to Thor and back again. She sighed and tipped her head back, swallowing a large sip of her drink. “And you have one,” she said to Loki, narrowing her eyes slightly. “Are you the right hands, or the wrong ones?”

Loki shrugged. There was no real answer to that question. “ _Asgard_ has one,” he corrected her – although, to be fair, it was Loki who had stolen it. He did not look at Thor. “The space stone was kept safely in Odin’s Vault, but with Asgard gone …”

Valkyrie pressed her lips together, swirling the alcohol around in her decanter. “Shouldn’t we hold onto it, regardless? If these stones are as powerful as you say, surely it would be to our benefit to have one.”

Thor shook his head. “There are beings out there that seek the stones, and we can’t have them tracking it to us. Not while we cannot hope to defend ourselves.”

“We have to get rid of it,” Loki said, a little too quickly. He thought of how the Kree attack had taken them by surprise. They’d gotten lucky in that instance – lucky that they all happened to be in the same place and could fight the Kree off, lucky that there were not more members of the raiding party. Against the Titan? He would decimate what was left of Asgard and not spill a drop of blood doing it. Loki closed his eyes for a moment, drawing a breath and letting it back out slowly. “We have to,” he repeated more quietly.

When he opened his eyes, both Thor and Valkyrie were looking at him – Thor in concern, Valkyrie in curiosity. “The safety of the people has to come first,” Loki added.

“Well, I’m always up for an adventure,” Valkyrie said with a slight smile. “Where are we taking it?”

Thor gestured at Loki. “You said you knew of someone who could be trusted with it,” he reminded Loki. “What do you propose?”

Loki hesitated only for a moment. “We’ve talked of going to Heliopolis, in Otherworld,” he said. “How much do you both know about it?”

Thor shook his head. “Not much, just that it’s a celestial city and they have a bridge.”

“Why – what do you know about it?” Valkyrie asked.

“Enough.” Loki dropped his arms, thumbnail going to his palm. “The celestials of Heliopolis are called the Ennead and are as powerful as the Aesir. They’re ruled by a god called Osiris. With Odin’s Vault gone, the next best place in the universe to keep an Infinity stone would be with him.”

Thor tilted his head. “I do recall Father speaking of Osiris before. Have you met him?”

“Not as myself,” Loki said reluctantly.

Valkyrie looked from Loki to Thor with her brow furrowed, but Thor pressed his lips together, realizing what Loki meant. Loki had met Osiris when he was pretending to be Odin. It was still a point of contention between them – it existed in the background like a bruise, forgotten about until it was brushed against by accident and then it gave a throb of reminder that it was there. Even though Thor claimed to understand Loki’s actions, Loki doubted that Thor would ever truly forgive him for cursing Odin to Midgard. Loki did not think it was his spell or banishment that had led to Odin’s death, and he was not sorry even if it was, but Thor didn’t see it that way. The whole thing was just one more reminder of how far they still had to go before they could truly call themselves the brothers they once were.

To Loki’s gratitude, Thor did not explain to Valkyrie what Loki meant. Loki didn’t know if Thor had told her about his impersonation or not; if he had, neither had mentioned it. “So,” was all Thor said, “how do you expect him to trust you as Loki?”

“You still doubt me so much, brother,” Loki responded, shaking his head. “Osiris and Odin were allies. Surely he would hold an audience with me. Am I not, after all, Odin’s son as well?” As far as Osiris was aware, Loki had never stopped being the second prince of Asgard, and the look Thor gave him meant he understood that well.

“Furthermore,” Loki went on, “by establishing further alliance with the Ennead, we can negotiate for our people to access the golden bridge to Midgard.”

Valkyrie was sipping her drink again. “Would be nice to be done with this godforsaken trip,” she agreed. “If we can guarantee access to the golden bridge, then that means our journey will only last as long as it takes us to get from here to Heliopolis.”

“And the sooner we’re on Midgard, the sooner we’ll be out of this uncertain limbo,” Thor agreed. “I know our people are eager to start anew.”

“So, then.” Loki spread his palms. “Valkyrie and I will take the _Commodore_ to Heliopolis. We will give Osiris the Tesseract, negotiate for use of the bridge, and return post haste.”

“Sounds like a plan to me.” Valkyrie took one last, large gulp of her drink and then set the decanter down hard on the table. “What do you say, your Majesty?”

Thor nodded, clasping his fingers together as he looked thoughtfully at Loki. “You can leave as soon as you’re ready,” he agreed.

* * *

 

The _Commodore_ had been parked on top of the ship since they’d left Asgard, and it felt strange to walk around inside of it now. The last time Loki had been in it, he’d been flying frantically away from Asgard’s palace as Surtur’s flames burst through to rain devastation down on Asgard.  

If he had not had the Tesseract, Loki would not have even made it to the ship. Sometimes, he wondered if Thor had thought about that when he’d sent him down to release the demon. Did Thor simply take it for granted that Loki would have the magic to escape, or did he view Loki’s life for Asgard’s salvation an even trade? Sometimes, Loki wanted to ask Thor; other times, he acknowledged that he did not truly want to know the answer.

The ship was bigger than it looked from the outside, yet Loki still found it garish and cramped. Everything was furnished in orange and white, with the occasional gray accent. Behind the cockpit was a sitting area with benches on either side of it, though most of the space there was taken up by the large guns the Valkyrie had furnished it with after arriving on Asgard. Beyond that, in the back, there was a table along with four wide-backed chairs, a liquor shelf with six or seven bottles of Sakaaran alcohol, which would make Valkyrie happy, and a tiny kitchenette and bathroom. It was not ideal, but Loki supposed there were worse ways to travel.

“Not bad, huh,” Valkyrie said from behind Loki. She tossed a bag, which he assumed held whatever travel necessities she needed, onto the table. “Ugh. I forgot about _that_ , though.” She gestured toward the wall behind the table, which was covered in a disturbing mural of the Grandmaster.

Loki rolled his eyes. “No one will ever love that man as much as he loves himself,” he replied, and Valkyrie made a face in agreement.

“So,” she said, dropping into the pilot’s seat, “how far away is Heliopolis, again?”

Loki narrowed his eyes, wondering when it had been decided that _she_ would pilot the ship. “Not terribly far,” was all he said. He sighed, sitting down in the co-pilot’s chair. He sat back, spreading his hands so he could create a projection of a star map of this area of space. It was very faint, due to his magic still not being fully restored, but it would do. “We’re here,” he said, identifying Deaphus on the projection, “and Heliopolis is …. I believe it’s this one.” He pointed at another section of the map. “I have the coordinates,” he added, figuring them out with the help of the map.

Valkyrie shook her head, gazing at the star map. “What else have you got in your bag of tricks?” she asked. She reached out to touch the star map, but her hand drifted right through it, causing a flicker of pale blue light to shimmer at her fingertips.

“Plenty,” Loki replied, one corner of his mouth lifting. He made the projection disappear and punched the coordinates into the control panel to set their course. “Including particularly impressive piloting skills,” he added pointedly.

Valkyrie snorted. “I’m more familiar with this ship than you are,” she pointed out. “Besides, I got here first.”

“Is that right?” Loki lifted an eyebrow. “Spend a lot of time at the Grandmaster’s, uh, _special_ parties?” He knew very well what the _Commodore_ was used for, but his barb did not get much of a reaction out of Valkyrie. She just smirked and began the process of starting up the ship.

“I wouldn’t be caught dead at one of those things,” she responded. “But I hear the Grandmaster tried to get _your_ pretty face to make regular appearances.” She winked at him and, to his great chagrin, Loki felt his own cheeks heat up. Damn her ability to make his own words backfire on him. Valkyrie just laughed, the ship roaring to life.

“I did what I had to do to stay alive,” Loki said, “no more and no less. Emphasis on the _no more_.”

“So you never found yourself on the receiving end of the Grandmaster’s _melt stick?_ ” She lifted her fingers, giving him exaggerated air quotes.

Loki shuddered. “You are truly vulgar, Valkyrie.”

She laughed again, shaking her head. “You don’t spend hundreds of years scrapping on a trash planet and _not_ pick up a vulgarity or two.” She eased back on the controls, lifting the ship gracefully into the air. “Not to mention my basic personality.”

“Your basic personality _is_ a trash planet,” Loki returned dryly.

“And yours is a box of daggers, but you don’t see me judging,” she retorted. They were picking up speed and momentum, rising high into the air as the little city of Kallais got smaller and smaller beneath them until it disappeared completely. When the ship burst through the atmosphere and the sky gave way to the thick blanket of space, Loki let out a breath he hadn’t been aware he was holding. He looked out at the clusters of stars around them and remembered how it felt to fall among them, weightless in body but so terribly burdened in mind, waiting, waiting for his lungs to grow corrupted, for his heart to stop beating.

He realized he was gripping the arms of his seat and he forced himself to let go. It was not often that space got to him like this – he’d been fine for those many weeks on the ship – but he was too on edge now, nerves frayed with worry over the Tesseract, the Titan, the knowledge that his past was catching up to him and he could only evade it for so long.

Valkyrie leaned over to look at the course map. “Looks like we’ll be there in about a day and a half,” she commented, and pressed her lips together. “I hope Dagny is all right.”

“She’s under Thor’s protection,” Loki reminded her.

“I know. I don’t mean her safety.” But Valkyrie didn’t elaborate. They were quiet as she navigated the ship to the point where she could engage autopilot, and as soon as that was done, she hopped up. “I forgot about all the drinks in here,” she added, tossing her ponytail over her shoulder as she headed for the liquor shelf. “Want anything?”

Loki shook his head. “Maybe later.” _One_ of them should be sober, he thought.

“Suit yourself.” He heard the clinking of bottles and a moment later she returned with a green one, already taking a swig as she dropped back down in the pilot’s seat.

“You ever think about stopping?” Loki nodded at the bottle.

Valkyrie let out a huff of air and shook her head. “Why would I?”

Loki shrugged. When they’d first begun this trip, it was easy to judge her drunkard habits because he did not know her, and it made no difference to him if she chose to spend her life half-inebriated or not. Somewhere along the way, his judgement on the matter had eased, but it still bothered him to see her downing drink after drink, and he could not have said why. “No reason, I suppose.”

“Makes the days easier,” she told him simply. “Sure you don’t want one? Gonna be a long trip without anything to do.”

He supposed that she had a point. Hours upon hours of empty time stretched ahead of them before they reached Heliopolis, and there really _was_ nothing better to do. “All right,” he said, gesturing toward her bottle. “Hand it over.”

Valkyrie passed him the bottle and he took a large swallow. Almost immediately, he wanted to spit it back out. It was unlike anything he’d ever tasted, bitter and unpalatable. He covered his mouth with the back of his hand, forcing it down. “Norns, that is _awful_ ,” he said when he could speak. She’d downed it without so much as blinking. “How can you drink this?”

She was smiling, shaking her head as she took the bottle back. “Drink enough, you don’t even taste it anymore,” she told him with a shrug, once again lifting the bottle to her lips. “Even the vilest drink can start to taste like water if you just get past the initial sip.”

“Mm.” Loki felt like he needed to wash his mouth out. He got to his feet and went back to the liquor shelf. The Grandmaster’s selection of liquors wasn’t entirely unfamiliar to Loki, having spent weeks in his court. He chose a large blue bottle containing a drink he remembered enjoying, and brought it back to the cockpit. After taking a sip, he offered it to Valkyrie. “It’s much better,” he told her.

“All the same to me,” she replied, taking a swig anyway.

They didn’t speak for a long time. They simply sat, trading the bottle back and forth. The Grandmaster’s liquors were strong, Loki remembered, which was part of why he’d largely avoided them while he was on Sakaar. It had been more important than ever to have his wits about him then. Now, he let himself enjoy the feeling of his nerves easing, his muscles relaxing as he grew a bit heavy-headed.

He remembered feasts on Asgard, where wine and mead flowed like water deep into the night. Thor had always enjoyed partaking well past his own limits – in truth, Thor did not seem to realize or care that he _had_ limits. Loki would drink just enough to feel the same, pleasant, mild intoxication he felt now. It was more than not wanting to get sloppy; more nights than he could count, Loki would be the one who had to stumble with Thor back to their quarters, Thor leaning so heavily on Loki that Loki practically had to carry him. It was not an easy feat, but Loki had done it; he would help Thor into his bed, remove his boots and leathers, place water close by and tuck the blankets around him. Then he would curl up in a chair with a book and keep watch, even though he never really knew what he was watching _for_. He just felt that he had to be there to ensure Thor woke up again the next morning.

Sometimes, Loki tried to figure out when it had all gone wrong between himself and Thor. Loki’s own unraveling was a clear-cut moment in time, a split-second when a frost giant had grabbed him and Loki looked down at his own hand and saw someone else’s. His rightful place in Asgard, in the _universe_ , had snapped like the flimsiest flower stem and he’d spiraled down until there was nothing left of the Loki he used to be.

With Thor, though … something had fractured between them long before then and they had not seen, Loki had not seen. Was it only that they were too young? Their innocent youths had yet to be marred by failure and error; they were princes sitting on broken thrones and as they grew, so did Loki’s resentment, so did Thor’s arrogance.

Could what he felt for Thor even be called love if for as long as he could remember it was wrapped in the unrelenting grip of envy?  

“Hey.” Loki blinked as Valkyrie’s voice broke the silence. “You okay over there?”

Loki cleared his throat and nodded. He hadn’t realized that the melancholy of his thoughts must have shown on his features, since he was less occupied with hiding them. “Just thinking.”

“Well, don’t hurt yourself.” Valkyrie carefully rested her legs on the control panel, avoiding hitting any vital controls with her boots. “The idea is to _avoid_ thinking too hard.”  

“Can’t help it.” Loki tapped his forehead. “It’s always going.”

“Figures you’re the introspective type,” Valkyrie said, rolling her eyes. She held out her hand for the bottle. “Do you realize that you never smile?”

“What?” Loki’s brow furrowed. “I smile all the time.”

“No, you don’t.” Valkyrie took a swig. “You _smirk_ , or you look smug, or you grin in that sarcastic, irritating way you have about you. But you never _smile_.”

“What’s the difference?” Loki asked, tilting his head at her.

“It’s sad that you even have to ask.” Valkyrie handed him the bottle and hopped up, swaying a little on her feet. She giggled. “Boy, that one packs a punch, doesn’t it? I’ll be right back.”

She left him to ponder what she meant. Loki took another sip of his drink; he heard the bathroom door close, and then open again a few minutes later; he listened to the sound of clinking bottles as she rummaged through the rest of the liquor. There was still a bit left in the blue bottle and Loki focused on it, drawing on the reserves of his seiðr to replicate and refill the drink to the brim. When Valkyrie returned holding what looked like a white wine, he silently passed her the blue bottle instead.

Valkyrie did a bit of a double take when she realized that the bottle was full again. “Son of a – have you been hiding _that_ little trick this whole time?”  

Loki shrugged. “Child’s play.”

“Do you realize how much easier you could have made my life?” Valkyrie sat down again, shaking her head. “I’ve been trekking from the stronghold to the ship at least four times a day.”

“Is that where you keep your secret stash?” Loki smirked. “I knew it was coming from somewhere.”

“Hey, I claimed what I found, fair and square.” Valkyrie took a large gulp and then passed the bottle back to him before opening up the wine. “Not my fault no one else found it first.”

“No one else had a chance.” Loki’s brief amusement faded with yet another sip of drink; his inebriation was increasing, and he sincerely hoped that they did not run into any issues between here and Heliopolis that would require either of them to actually pilot the Commodore. How humiliating it would be to survive up to this point only to perish by drunkenly colliding with an asteroid or some other space debris.

“I suppose that’s true.” Valkyrie shook her head, putting her feet up again.

They were quiet again for a few minutes. Loki ran a finger up and down the bottle, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye every so often. “I can’t remember the last time I was happy,” he said, breaking the silence.

Valkyrie looked over at him, surprise evident in her features.

“You said I don’t smile,” he added, to explain the non-sequitur. “I didn’t notice, but … the more I think about it, the more I realize I cannot remember when I last felt happiness. I don’t think I even know what it _is_.”

“Happiness is an elusive thing,” she replied after a pause. “I know that feeling well.” She shook her head, taking a long sip of wine. “That’s the first remotely personal thing you’ve said around me,” she added, and then grinned. “I’m proud of you.”

“Shut up.” Loki rolled his eyes, but the corners of his mouth twitched.

“Really, if I knew all it would take to get you to loosen up a little was to get you drunk, I’d have tried a long time ago.”

“I’m not drunk.” Certainly, he was well on his way, though. “Yet. Besides, what difference does it make to you if I loosen up or not?”

“Well, for one thing, it’d be easier to get to know you.” Valkyrie’s shoulders rose and fell. “You envy Thor’s ability to be personable, but you don’t try to emulate it at all. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you actively try _not_ to be personable, even.”

“It’s been my experience that people always choose Thor, anyway,” Loki responded. “Easier not to bother in the first place.”

“It’s a decent strategy,” she agreed. “Must get lonely, though.”

“Yeah, sometimes.” Loki frowned – perhaps, he was more inebriated than he’d thought. He shook his head and sipped his drink. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not talk about Thor.”

Valkyrie looked at him for a long moment, and then nodded. “Works for me.” She paused, and then grinned. “So. You had a poetry phase, huh?”

Loki closed his eyes and took another gulp of liquor. “Thor doesn’t know _everything_ about me,” he responded, in direct contradiction to his desire not to speak of his brother. He opened his eyes and looked back at her. “The truth is, I fancied someone at court.”

“Really?” Valkyrie’s eyebrows nearly disappeared into her hairline. “Thor didn’t know?”

“No. And it never went anywhere, so it didn’t matter.” Loki offered her the bottle, and she swapped him for the wine. It was very sweet, but not terrible. Loki’s head felt very heavy, but he was enjoying the way it felt to simply … _not_ think so much. He would regret this, he knew.

“Unlucky with the ladies, huh.” Valkyrie clucked her tongue, downing a large swallow of her drink. “That’s too bad. I bet your poetry was sweet.”

His skin crawled to be called _sweet_. “It wasn’t a woman,” he told her, and took another sip of wine.

“Really.” She looked surprised again, which gave Loki some satisfaction. “So you prefer men?”

“I wouldn’t say I _prefer_ men.” Loki sighed, immediately sorry he’d said anything. “It’s just never made much of a difference to me – men or women, I mean. If I had feelings for someone, or felt an attraction to someone … what did it matter?”

“I understand. I’m the same.” Valkyrie traded bottles with him again. “So how come you didn’t tell Thor?”

“I just wanted to keep it to myself,” Loki answered. “Besides, Thor is about as subtle as a bilgesnipe, especially when we were young. It would not have remained a secret, had I confided in him.”

She grinned. “That’s fair. And that’s the last time I’ll mention Thor.”

Loki was grateful for that. Even when he didn’t want to think about Thor, so much of his identity – his past, his future – was tied up in his brother that it seemed impossible to ignore. He sighed, looking out at the stretch of endless space beyond them. Once, he had fallen through space and time. He’d fallen through a tapestry of the cosmos splattered with stars and when he’d landed, what was left of his heart had crumbled to dust and his mind collapsed. Maybe some of the pieces of his mind and some of the fragments of his heart were out there still, collecting themselves into meteors streaking across the sky.

“You’re looking entirely too serious again,” Valkyrie told him, and Loki rubbed a hand over his eyes. “Show me a magic trick,” she went on.

He glanced over at her, considering. “My magic isn’t fully restored. I can’t do much.”

“So do what you can. Starting with this.” Valkyrie held up the bottle of white wine, which was three quarters gone.

Despite himself, Loki grinned. “I’m already regretting showing you this,” he told her, but he did as she asked, refilling the bottle.

“Regret nothing, for I will ensure you use these powers only for good,” she replied. When she laughed, Loki found himself laughing with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to follow me on [tumblr!](http://iamanartichoke.tumblr.com/) :)


	25. XXV.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unapologetic Val and Loki fluff before shit gets real on Heliopolis.

 

**XXV.**

They talked for what felt like - and very well might have been - hours. For awhile, in between long stretches of silence in which they traded bottles and watched the stars and Loki used his magic to refill the liquor, they spoke of the mundane, both careful to avoid revealing anything too personal.  
  
The more they drank, though, the less careful they became. They talked of their childhoods, of their families – Loki told her boyhood stories of some of the funnier adventures he and Thor had gotten into, and Valkyrie told him about all the ways she’d purposely sabotaged her own chances of marrying well by scaring off potential suitors with vulgar language and talk of female lovers. They laughed until their sides ached and it felt so _good_. Loki could not remember the last time he’d laughed so much, not even with Thor. He had the fleeting thought of being fortunate to be able to laugh this way at least once since he’d fallen to madness. It made him feel, perhaps for the first time, that maybe he was not so lost.

Of course, that could have just been the drink. Loki was well beyond the point of inebriation, enjoying the way both his mind and his body relaxed. His head spun and seemed to feel much too light and entirely too heavy at once; his bones felt as though they were made of liquid and the impenetrable barriers he worked so hard to keep around himself had crumbled away. He was beginning to see the appeal in Valkyrie’s vices.

At some point, they’d moved from the cockpit to the sitting area, taking up one of the benches behind the guns. Either Loki was leaning against her, or she was leaning against Loki - it was hard to tell, only that they were both slouching, their shoulders touching just enough for Loki to be aware of it without feeling the need to straighten himself out and pull back from the contact. It was strangely comfortable, and Loki closed his eyes as he rested his head against the back of the bench, as if he could fall asleep right then without being haunted by nightmares.

“His name was Audun,” Valkyrie was saying, tracing the rim of her wine bottle with one finger. Loki did not know how, but they had somehow gotten onto the topic of first loves. Loki was pretty sure Valkyrie had brought it up. “We were barely out of adolescence, now that I think about it - too young to know anything about love, but of course we thought we did. You know - us against the universe, going to be together until the end of time, all of that.” She laughed a little, without much humor. “I’m sure you know what I mean.” 

“I don’t,” Loki admitted. He’d stopped refilling the blue bottle and had switched to what he assumed was mead, although it tasted a little too sweet to pretend it was Asgardian. He stared at his hands wrapped around the bottle, noticing how pale they looked against the dark burgundy.

For a truly bizarre moment, he wondered if he could turn his hands blue by using his seiðr. It was not something he had ever tried. He’d only ever seen his own true form revealed when he was touching the Casket of Ancient Winters – except, of course, for that first time on Jotunheim. Sometimes, Loki looked at himself in the mirror and tried to imagine a blue-hued reflection, and it made his skin crawl so much that he could not linger on it, let alone try to make it a reality.

Shapeshifting was an intrinsic ability. Loki could take on other forms with barely a thought, and change back again just as easily. But he’d never tried to shift from his Aesir form into the Jotun lurking beneath. He did not even know if it was possible. Odin had done something to him as a babe to make him Aesir, something that had not been undone with Odin’s death. Loki was certain that he could figure out the magic of it if he tried, but he had not _wanted_ to try. Denial was a sweet intoxicant, and sitting on Odin’s throne allowed Loki to indulge for years. Denial, apathy, and even humorous acknowledgement were all better options than acceptance.

“Where did you go just now?” For someone who had to have been even more drunk than he was, Valkyrie was irritatingly perceptive to his occasional lapses in conversation, his silences where he was meant to be saying something. If he were to allow himself this introspection, she could at least do him the courtesy of not picking up on it.

“Nowhere.” Loki took a large swallow of the mead. “So what happened with Audun?”

“Nothing, really.” Valkyrie eyed him and then shrugged. “He fell in love with someone else. It happens.”

“Mm.” Loki wouldn’t really know about that, either. He considered this, and then decided to say it. “I wouldn’t know.”

“No?” Valkyrie quirked an eyebrow. “I suppose you were the one doing the leaving, then.”

Loki shook his head, slouching a bit more. “Not exactly.” His head was really spinning now. He thought of the night he’d spoken to Sif and how he and Thor had spoken briefly afterward about Jane Foster and how she and Thor had parted ways. Thor had said that he still loved her, but that it wasn’t that simple, which Loki both understood and did not understand. From an intellectual standpoint, it made sense that matters of the heart could not be so simple, but from a personal standpoint, Loki could not have said how it _felt_ any more than he could have described soaring through the air, grasping onto Mjolnir’s handle. It was simply not an experience for which he had a frame of reference.

“Haven’t you ever been in love?” Valkyrie asked, as if she were reading his thoughts. Which, considering that he was not bothering to keep his expression as neutral as he normally would, was entirely possible.

“No,” he admitted. “Maybe I thought it was a possibility, at one point … but it never came to fruition.”

“The boy at court?” she questioned, with a slight tilt of the lips. “The one you wrote poetry about?”

Loki scoffed and took a swig from his bottle. It was getting low, but he did not yet refill it. He was starting to feel sleepy, lazy, and entirely too open. In the back of his mind, he acknowledged that he should probably stop drinking. There was already going to be much to regret in the morning. “That was nothing,” he told her. “A silly, unrequited crush. I think the only reason it stands out in my memory is that it was my first one - nothing more significant about it than that.”

He’d had others throughout the years, of course - not many, granted, but every so often a particular man or woman caught his eye or his heart and he would lose himself in the exhilarating melancholy of infatuation. He thought of stolen kisses under the shade of an apple tree, thought of the fumbling awkwardness of hands exploring skin for the first time in the dark privacy of his chambers, thought of how poetry would spill from his fingers with all the urgency of a heart ready to spill over with the depth of emotion it felt.

Those things were nice, but … “There was always something missing,” he said, a continuation of his thoughts. He did not pause to fill in the blanks, as surely the words must have seemed abrupt; he just let himself speak. “In my courtships. In the beginning it would be … wonderful. Romantic. Everything it should be.” He waved a hand uncomfortably. “You know. But that initial thrill would fade, and I’d be left feeling empty where I should have felt intimacy. I was always too … closed off. Thor would tell me I needed to let myself take a chance, but I don’t really know what that meant. Or means. Eventually I came to the conclusion that some of us are simply meant to be alone.”

Loki trailed off, and then shrugged. It was strange to hear himself say such things. Even Thor, who knew him best, was not privy to these thoughts. But though Loki regretted saying the words aloud, he could not deny the truth of them. Beneath his shiny Aesir exterior, he was an ugly creature who had neither the inkling nor the capacity to love – that was what existed at his core even before his fall, before the Titan, before the madness that had ravaged his mind.

“I don’t think that’s true,” Valkyrie said, shaking her head. “No one is meant to be truly alone.”

“Some are,” he countered. “Look at you and me.”

Valkyrie snorted. Loki didn’t realize how much he’d been leaning on her until she got up and he had to scramble a bit not to fall over on the bench. She crossed over to the liquor shelf, bending over to examine what was left. “What makes you think I’m meant to be alone?”

He let out a small laugh. “Maybe you’re not _meant_ to be alone, but you _want_ to be alone, do you not?”

“I don’t know.” Valkyrie examined one of the bottles. “Haven’t thought about it.”

Loki gave her a look that plainly said he did not believe her. “You’ve been isolating yourself since the Valkyrie fell,” he reminded her. “Drinking, hiding out on Sakaar, bringing gladiators to the Grandmaster. Until Thor showed up, you had no real intention of stopping, did you? I mean …” Loki laughed again, shaking his head. “You’ve been with us for months and you won’t even tell anyone your real name. Maybe you’re not meant to be alone, but you certainly aren’t trying to connect with anyone. Except Dagny, and that’s because she’s the only thing left of the woman you used to love.” 

“Well.” Valkyrie huffed, turning toward him with narrowed eyes. She looked torn between being offended and acknowledging his point. Her eyes were as dark as he’d ever seen them and he allowed himself a moment to wonder if he’d gone too far. Valkyrie folded her arms across her chest, lifting her chin. “You’re a goddamn perceptive drunk, aren’t you.”

“I’m perceptive about everyone but myself,” Loki replied, and his throat tightened almost as soon as the words were out. His eyes stung and he swallowed and looked away. “So my mother says.”

“She was right. But Frigga was always wise.” Valkyrie turned away from him again. She snatched up a slim decanter half-filled with amber liquid, popped the top, and downed the entire contents in one swig. “You’re more capable of love than you think you are,” she went on, after she’d swallowed.

“What makes you think so?”

“That look you got on your face just now.” Valkyrie set the empty decanter down hard. “For your mother.”

Loki flinched as if he’d been slapped. He straightened a bit, fingers tightening around his drink. “That’s different,” he said, with some difficulty. The knot in his throat was growing, but he would hurl himself out of the airlock before he’d cry in front of Valkyrie. “Everyone loves their mother.”

Valkyrie scoffed. “Not true. I hope mine’s rotting in the deepest bowels of Helheim.”

They fell silent, each sizing the other up. Valkyrie’s lips were pressed in a thin line, cheeks colored faintly with anger; Loki’s jaw was very tight and his vision was blurry. For several moments, neither of them spoke – and then, for once, Loki backed down first. He blew out his breath and looked away, down at the bottle still gripped loosely in his hands. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I shouldn’t have said what I said.”

She let a beat pass, and then her shoulders rose and fell. “Not like it isn’t true,” she returned, and snatched up a bottle at random. She dropped down into one of the chairs at the table, kicking her feet up to rest on the edge.  “I’m sorry, too – for bringing up your mother.”

“Technically, I brought her up.” Loki mirrored her shrug and took a long sip of mead. He realized, suddenly, that though he often thought of Frigga he rarely spoke about her – not even to Thor. The wound was still too fresh, even four years later. He swallowed down the tightness in his throat with another swig of mead. Drink made him an open man, if not an honest one, it would seem. “You knew her,” he heard himself add, and glanced up hesitantly. “Didn’t you?”

Valkyrie studied him warily for a few moments before she nodded. “She was kind. Radiant. I didn’t know her well, but I very much liked what I did know. But it was a long time ago. I left Asgard before she had children of her own.”

Loki tilted his head at that. “So Hela …”

She suddenly looked uncomfortable. “Frigga wasn’t Hela’s mother.” She tipped her head back, drinking. “Didn’t your father tell you _anything_?”

“No.” He snorted a laugh, shaking his head. Odin and his damn _lies_. And, Norns, how _old_ was Valkyrie? “I told you, Odin did not share his secrets.”

“Seems like an awfully big one not to share,” Valkyrie remarked. 

“Yes, well. He did not even tell me I was adopted until I figured it out for myself.” Loki pressed his lips together. Once the words were out, he wondered if Thor had told her what Loki truly was. After Thor had shown up on Sakaar, it was not a secret that his relationship to Loki was through adoption, but how much of the story Thor himself had revealed, Loki did not know and likely never would. For her part, Valkyrie’s expression remained fairly neutral, though her eyebrows did quirk a bit. 

“I’m sorry,” she said, shaking her head. “That couldn’t have been easy.”

“ _That_ is an understatement, dear Valkyrie.” Loki sighed, leaning back. He wished that they could have this conversation sober – he wanted to ask her if she knew who Hela’s mother was, what his own mother had been like then, how much Thor had told her about their family secrets. He wanted to know if she was still Asgardian enough to loathe the Jotuns, as he and Thor had been taught to as children or if, in leaving before the war between Asgard and Jotunheim, she knew them only as beings of another realm, no better and no worse than the Aesir.

He wanted to know all of these things, but his mind was too muddled to formulate the thoughts correctly. Yet he knew that, once he was sober enough to think clearly, he would not ask. It was a conundrum – he had to be inebriated to let himself inquire, yet _because_ he was inebriated, he could not make himself speak as he wished.

Perhaps, some things were best left unsaid. Loki brought the bottle to his lips and downed what was left. When it was empty, he set it down on the floor beside the bench and rubbed his eyes. “I think I’m done,” he told her. “For now.”

Valkyrie nodded, finishing off her own bottle. “Me too.” She eyed him for a moment and then got up from her seat, returning to join him on the bench again. The ship was drifting seamlessly along their path and Loki thought that one of them should go check the controls, make sure they were not about to collide with anything, but he couldn’t make himself get up. Valkyrie was settling in beside him and before, where their contact had been mostly accidental, she now deliberately leaned into him and he surprised himself by not moving away. He allowed her to drop her head against his shoulder, holding himself very still even as she slipped her arm around his waist and pressed in close.

“You’re an affectionate drunk,” he remarked, but his voice did not come out as dry as he’d intended. He sounded very quiet, almost uncertain.

“Only sometimes.” He felt her smile against his shoulder. “I didn’t bring a pillow, so you’ll have to do.”

Loki rolled his eyes, but still could not bring himself to pull away. Silence fell over them, companionable and easy, and the last thing Loki was aware of before he drifted into a light sleep was the sound of her breathing, keeping even time with his own. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know what the canon is re: Hela not being Frigga's child, but Thor mentions in IW she's his half-sister, so I'm basing my headcanon on that remark. 
> 
> Feel free to follow me on [tumblr!](http://iamanartichoke.tumblr.com/)


	26. XXVI.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanos makes an appearance and Charlotte is inspired by IW events (no spoilers).

 

**XXVI.**

 

The Sanctuary was the only place in the universe where Loki had ever felt chilled to his core. Not even the frozen wastelands of Jotunheim had affected him the way the Sanctuary did – so cold that it hurt to breathe, as if the air was dry ice that burned through his lungs and seeped into his veins. It was a chill that lived inside of him and it only stopped when they brought the fire. There would be a lapse, then; warmth flooded through his body and thawed his blood and he could have cried with the relief of it, if only he had the _time_.

Because the relief did not last long. It was mere seconds until the heat grew too intense and then he was burning in agony, writhing under a flame that would not cease. It had not taken them long to discover what he truly was, and the quickest way to torture a frost giant was to expose him to inescapable heat. They burned him until it felt like his insides were melting, bones and organs and ribs and heart smoldering into charred ruins as he screamed for mercy that would not come.

When Loki found himself shivering as he once again dreamed of the Sanctuary, fear seized his body and caught in his throat. In his nightmares, it was the _memory_ of the pain and torture that haunted him. He’d always been safe behind the barrier that separated the dream world from the waking one – he did not physically feel the pain, despite how real the dreams could seem. 

This time, however, Loki was aware of the sensation of ice clawing itself into his skin. He was standing in a clearing surrounded by rocks and craters, the starless sky above pressing down on him with the weight of its darkness. He could hardly breathe. It was like being constricted under the weight of Mjolnir, when Thor had no other way of keeping Loki down. It made him dizzy, light headed, and he did not know if it was the lack of air or the terror that made him feel that way.

It occurred to him that his senses may have been heightened because he’d been so drunk. But no sooner had the thought crossed his mind than it left again, for this had gone beyond mere intoxication. Perhaps the alcohol had broken down barriers he was not even consciously aware of creating in his mind. However it had happened, he was very sober here, and very cognizant that he was not dreaming.

Nor was he alone. The Titan was here. Every hair on the back of Loki’s neck stood on end. He swallowed hard and straightened his shoulders determinedly and when he turned he found, just as he suspected, the Titan staring back at him.

Neither said anything right away. Instead, they simply gazed at one another, sizing the other up. The Titan’s nearly invisible lips twisted in something resembling a smile, as if he were greeting an old friend save for the mockery behind his eyes. He was large, even larger than the green beast Bruce tried to keep at bay. Everything about him was as Loki remembered – the hulking frame, the cruel twist of his mouth, the lavender skin stretched craggily over muscle and bone. His hands alone were larger than Loki’s head, but even had he been the size of a sprite, the sheer malevolence that radiated from his every inch would have made him just as terrifying.

Loki did not know how, but he managed to find his voice. His insides were quaking and soft, but when he spoke, his voice was steady and clear. “Thanos.” 

Thanos’s smile widened. “So, you do remember me, Asgardian. I was beginning to think you’d forgotten the time we spent together.”

“Well, torment is not so easy to forget.” Loki clenched his fists at his sides, fingernails digging into his palms. 

“Torment?” Thanos chuckled, as if Loki’s words truly amused him. “You’ve not yet known true torment – but, certainly, you will. In the meantime, you have something that belongs to me. I’d like it back.” 

“I have nothing of yours,” Loki replied, “for all that I possess and all that you desire rightfully belongs to Asgard.”

“Asgard has fallen,” said Thanos, “and the Allfather is dead. Neither exists to protect you any longer. My patience is enduring, but it will not last forever. I intend to collect my debt.”

“That debt was not willingly made,” Loki snapped. He was surprised by the force with which his voice came out, the jagged edge of anger stronger than fear. He dug his nails harder into his palms and felt the moisture of having drawn blood. “You destroyed my mind and my free will, and Midgard revealed itself to be a formidable world against your futile mission. My failure and yours are one and the same, and I owe you _nothing_.”

The smirk fell from Thanos’s face, replaced by a snarl. Instantly, he was moving; he took a step toward Loki, who backed up so quickly that he stumbled over uneven rock and lost his balance. He caught himself against a slab of stone and pressed his hands into it, staring up at Thanos defiantly even as Thanos leaned in so close that, on his breath, Loki could feel the stench of death itself. Bile rose in his throat.

“You were weak,” Thanos hissed, “and I made you strong. You came to me a sniveling child, cast out from the Realm Eternal. Your people would not heed your rule because they saw a pathetic imp not fit for a throne. It was I who made you worthy of a kingdom.”

“I was already a king,” Loki snarled back. “Rightfully by birth.”

“You were rightfully _nothing_.” Thanos reached out, quick as a snake, and grabbed Loki by the throat. Loki struggled against the sudden lack of air; Thanos used only one hand to completely engulf Loki’s neck and windpipes in a grip that did not yield, no matter how Loki gasped and clawed at his fingers. “I asked but a trifle in return, and you did not bring it to me. The failure is yours alone, as is the debt, and both will be paid in full.”

Abruptly, just as Loki felt he was going to lose consciousness, Thanos let go. Loki collapsed to the ground, frantically dragging air into his lungs. He reached up to grip his own throat, already feeling the bruises swelling there. Thanos watched him, the corners of his mouth curving just slightly enough to make his amusement menacing.

“I will have the Tesseract,” he said simply. He knelt down, as if to appear on level with Loki, but still he towered. “I am a man of my word, Asgardian.” He reached out again and Loki flinched, but Thanos merely touched his head. With a flash of pain so blinding that Loki could not even scream, everything went white and her jerked awake with a gasp.

The chill of the Sanctuary was gone. Loki was on the _Commodore_ , slumped on the bench where he’d fallen asleep. Valkyrie was still asleep beside him, practically curled into him, her head lolling against his shoulder. With enough presence of mind to move carefully so she would not wake, Loki disentangled himself from her arms and got to his feet. He pressed his palms to his throat and stumbled to the bathroom and pulled down his collar in front of the mirror.

There, so faintly he could have been imagining it, was the blossom of finger-shaped bruises.

Loki swallowed hard. When he drew his hands away from his neck, he looked at his palms and saw that his own fingernails had drawn blood, staining his pale skin crimson.

He stayed in the tiny bathroom for a long time, standing with his palms pressed flat on the counter, eyes closed. He counted as high as he could, forwards and backwards again. Each time he felt like his breathing was under control and his heart rate had slowed down, he remembered the icy cold of the Sanctuary. He saw the Titan’s smirk and heard the rumble of his whisper - _I am a man of my word_ – and his heart would be off and racing again and Loki would have to start over, counting from the very beginning.

Eventually, Valkyrie knocked on the door. “You okay in there?” she called. Her voice sounded very far away. “I knew we shouldn’t have drank so much.”

Loki squeezed his eyes shut even tighter. “I’m fine,” he said, but his voice came out very small, barely a whisper. Whatever reserves of bravado he’d drawn on to speak up to the Titan were completely gone. He cleared his throat and tried again. “I’m fine, Valkyrie.”

There was a pause on the other side of the door. “Are you sure? We’re coming up on Heliopolis soon. If you’re hungover, you need to come out and eat something while we still have time.”

She was not going to leave him alone. Loki drew in a ragged breath and opened his eyes to stare at his reflection. His eyes were very bright. He had not even realized he was crying, but once he did, it took enormous effort to swallow the tears back down again. Loki bit his lip and focused on washing the blood from his palms. His movements felt mechanic and slow as he adjusted his collar so that it completely covered his neck. Then, he drew on a bit of seiðr to conjure one of his long overcoats, which he fastened securely around his throat. He made sure that he was completely in order, with no trace of distress left to mark his features, before he opened the door.

Valkyrie was leaning against the doorjamb with her arms folded. “Well,” she said, lifting a brow as she eyed him, “you look remarkably put together for someone who’s been sick for the last hour.” She tossed her ponytail and smiled a bit. “I assume you were sick, anyway. Hangovers are the worst if you’re not used to them.”

“I imagine you’re the expert,” he returned, moving around her without meeting her gaze. “You said we’re almost to Heliopolis?”

“Yeah, about half an hour out.” She looked at him curiously. “Are you sure you’re okay?” 

“Fine,” he snapped. Both of Valkyrie’s eyebrows went up then and a muscle in her jaw moved. Despite himself, Loki felt his shoulders slump. He and Valkyrie had just started reaching an understanding – he did not want to push her away now, not when she had not done a thing to deserve it. Guilt twisted in his abdomen. “Sorry,” he said quietly. “You’re right – I’m not feeling well.” 

Valkyrie clucked her tongue sympathetically. “Well, like I said, you should eat something.” She gestured toward the kitchenette. “Not sure what’s in there, but anything is better than nothing. Take a break. I’ll go cover the helm.”

She was being far kinder than he deserved. Loki swallowed hard, allowing himself to meet her gaze. He’d never really noticed before, but her eyes were very kind. Warm. For just a moment, he wanted to tell her what had just happened – wanted to tell her so badly that it hurt. His heart gave a throb when she tilted her head questioningly, and he forced himself to push the urge back down again.

“Thank you,” was all he said. He dropped his eyes and went into the kitchenette, busying himself with choosing a pre-packaged ration, even though he was not hungry in the least. He could feel her watching him but did not acknowledge it, and finally she let out something that sounded like a sigh and retreated to the cockpit.

Leaving the ration package on the counter, Loki sat down at the table and rested his head in his hands. _I am a man of my word_ , the Titan had said, and Loki knew it to be true. When the Titan promised suffering, he followed through – Loki knew that intimately. He remembered the time he’d spent in the Sanctuary, how he’d unraveled and come apart at the seams. He’d screamed and sobbed, begging for mercy and when mercy did not come, he’d crossed the border into the unknown, persuaded by the promise of power and respect if only he complied. He gave himself fully to madness, sinking into its embrace without intent to return.

All that he had suffered, all that he’d endured – and it amounted to less than nothing compared to what the Titan promised awaited him. It was a promise he’d make good on, Loki knew. Even if the Titan never got the Tesseract from Osiris, he’d still pursue Loki out of spite, seeking recompense for Loki’s failure. The only way to be free of the Titan would be if the Titan were dead, and killing him was impossible.

Loki suddenly found himself wishing, desperately, for Thor. With his unrelenting optimism, Thor would find a way. He and Loki would work together, fight side by side like Thor had always thought they would, and together they would bring the Titan to his knees. They would watch him beg for mercy like Loki had begged, and like with Loki, mercy would not come.

It was a very nice fantasy. But that was all it would ever be.

“We’re getting a call,” Valkyrie said from the cockpit, jolting Loki from his thoughts. “Heliopolis is sending a hail. You wanna come talk to them?”

Loki let out a breath and forced himself to his feet. He had to push forward. “Be right there,” he replied, and trudged to the cockpit to make contact with the Ennead.

* * *

On Midgard, there was a kingdom called Egypt and their capital city, Heliopolis, was said to be the birthplace of the Ennead gods. Tens of thousands of years before Odin brought the Asgardian war with Jotunheim to Norway, the Ennead gave Egypt to human rulers called pharaohs and created a new dimension, Celestial Heliopolis, for themselves from where they could watch over Earth. They created a golden bridge to travel from one realm to the other, and they called it the Path of the Gods.

The story of the Ennead was a fascinating one, but it was not one Odin had shared with the princes. Instead, Loki had sought out information of other realms and gods and beings that had come long before his time by devouring book after book in the palace’s grand library. He’d bury himself in stories until his muscles ached and his mother sent Thor to find him and drag him out because no one could remember the last time he’d eaten or slept.

As king, Odin had seemed largely unconcerned with places like Heliopolis. It was not part of the Nine Realms and Asgard held no rule over it. At best, the Ennead were allies, but Odin was far more concerned with teaching his sons about the inner workings of all the branches of Yggdrasil. He did not give thought to those worlds beyond Yggdrasil’s reach. 

While he was pretending to be Odin, however, the knowledge Loki had sought on his own had proven useful. Loki had told Thor he’d met Osiris as Odin, but that was not strictly true. Loki had never come face to face with the god, neither as Odin nor as himself. They had communicated, though. Maybe a year or so after Loki had exiled Odin to Midgard and taken his place atop Hliðskjálf, he’d received a messenger from Osiris’s council. Heliopolis requested military aid in an ongoing conflict with the Elves of Otherworld.

Loki had responded by sending Tyr and two hundred of the fiercest Einherjar, of which only ten had been lost. Heliopolis had driven the Elves back and, afterward, had Osiris had sent Loki-as-Odin word of his express gratitude. At the time, Loki had sent the aid because Osiris was a powerful ally against whom Loki did not want to build negative relations. Now, Loki was very aware that Heliopolis owed Asgard a debt and assuming responsibility for the Tesseract was the best way they could repay it. 

The _Commodore_ was given clearance to land just outside the royal palace. As they descended through the clouds, they were greeted with a cloudless, deep blue sky that spanned the expanse of the city. Like Asgard, Heliopolis was not a spherical world but a planetary object just large enough to encompass the celestial city and its surrounding territories. Where Asgard was lush with forests and meadows and seas, however, Heliopolis was largely made up of a golden desert landscape. There were rolling hills and trigonal buildings spread out over the land, with beige mountain ranges in the distance.

The palace itself was suitably impressive, made of towering white columns and turrets with golden features. It was a shimmering, gilded city, and Loki had the thought that if the Ennead could establish a place for themselves within reach of Midgard, there surely had to be a way for Asgard to create itself anew as well, without having to rely on the goodwill of Midgard or anywhere else that would show them hospitality and mercy.

Valkyrie was focusing on landing, but as soon as the ship locked into place and the engines dulled into silence, she let out her breath and hopped up from her seat. “Not a bad place,” she commented, glancing at Loki with a grin. “Seen worse, anyway.”

“I think we’ve all seen worse,” Loki replied, and though his words were meant to be light, his voice trembled slightly as the Sanctuary once again slipped into his mind’s eye. He shuddered a little, which he covered up by folding his arms. “Ready to go in?”

“After you,” she replied, something in her gaze scrutinizing even though her expression revealed nothing. She simply extended a hand, as if to help him up, and despite himself, Loki took it, allowing himself to squeeze her fingers and remind himself that she was with him. For now, at least, he was safe.

* * *

They were welcomed into the palace of Osiris by an ambassador called Rashidi who led them, along with a handful of guards, through the palace to the throne room. It was a magnificent room, every bit as opulent as Asgard’s throne room, but Loki focused immediately on Osiris, who stood from the throne and descended down the steps to meet them head-on.

“Your Majesty,” Rashidi announced, drawing himself up straight, “may I introduce Prince Loki of Asgard and his companion.” He paused somewhat awkwardly, realizing that Valkyrie had not told him who she was, but Osiris simply nodded once and Rashidi bowed and then took his leave.

Loki met Osiris’s gaze. He had imagined someone like Odin, millennia old and world-weary, but though he had to be at least Odin’s age if not older, Osiris stood tall and broad-shouldered, looking as keen and able as if he’d only taken the throne recently and had not yet had time to be marred by rule. He was without hair and had deep brown eyes; his armor, elegant yet sturdy, was draped around him in varying shades of green and gray. He bore a solid gold staff which curved into a near-loop at the top. Loki decided that Osiris was appropriately formidable, but his lips tilted just slightly at the corners and his eyes, though wary, also held flecks of warmth.

“Son of Odin,” Osiris greeted him. His voice was deep, rumbling around them. “I am pleased to welcome you to Heliopolis. I held your father in very high regard and am sorry to hear that he has passed.”

A practiced smile crossed Loki’s face, though his tongue itched with the urge to distinguish himself as simply _Loki_ , not son of Odin nor prince of Asgard. His hands were clasped behind his back, and he laced his fingers together so tightly that his knuckles ached, but his face revealed nothing. “Thank you for your sympathy and your hospitality,” he said, and then nodded toward Valkyrie. “Allow me to introduce my companion -”

“I am Brunnhilde,” Valkyrie interrupted, her voice clear, yet Loki could swear he heard the edge of amusement in it. He had to stop himself from looking over at her sharply in surprise. “The last Valkyrie of Asgard,” she added, and he felt the corners of his mouth twitch.

Osiris grasped her hand, lifting her fingers to his lips. “It is an honor,” he said, “for legend of the bravery of the Valkyrie is widely respected.”

“Your kindness is appreciated,” Valkyrie – _Brunnhilde_ – replied easily. When Osiris let go of her hand, she glanced over at Loki, and he definitely saw a smirk ghost across her features before her face became impassively polite once again. Loki hid his smile behind a quiet cough.

“So.” Osiris grasped his staff and glanced from Loki to Valkyrie and back again. “I understand that you have come to personally request aid of Heliopolis in the wake of Asgard’s fall.”

“Yes.” Loki cleared his throat, straightening his shoulders. Osiris was known as a benevolent god and Loki did not fear him, but his manner was intimidating in nature and it made Loki feel, as a representative of the Aesir, that he needed to project an air of power in his own right. The golden Realm may have fallen, but its people had not. “Your Highness, you have held an alliance with my father for millennia. My understanding is that Odin provided you aid as recently as three years ago in your conflict with the Elves of Otherworld.”

Osiris nodded. He turned gracefully, mounting the steps that returned him to his throne so that he could sit upon it and look down on them – as a king should, Loki thought. If nothing else, Osiris made it clear that he commanded respect. Loki and Valkyrie exchanged a look.

“Yes, it was very generous of Odin to send his troops,” Osiris responded. “Without the Einherjar, our own losses would have been significantly higher. We were very grateful.”

Loki could not help but feel a small coil of pride in his core, even though Osiris would never know it had been Loki’s actions that aided Heliopolis. “I am glad to hear it,” he said. “What we request of you now is, admittedly, a larger favor than the aid of troops, but we are hoping your goodwill toward Asgard will allow you to grant us what we seek.”

“I am listening,” said Osiris.

Loki glanced at Valkyrie again, who gave him the tiniest nod of encouragement. Loki drew a breath. “Are you familiar with the Infinity stones?”

Osiris’s fingers tightened around the base of his staff. “Certainly. To an extent. I am familiar with their existence and their power, though I am sure I do not have the full understanding of their true potential. I do not think anyone does.”

“A fair assessment,” Loki agreed. “You must know, then, that they cannot be destroyed, not even in the wake of the decimation that has befallen Asgard.”

Leaning forward a bit, Osiris furrowed his brow. “Asgard has possession of them?”

“Only one, which has become dangerous to keep in our possession,” Loki told him. “It was among the relics guarded in Odin’s Vault. However, the Allfather’s death and the subsequent destruction brought by Surtur has left these treasures vulnerable and unprotected – including the Infinity gem.”

“And which stone is it that you possess?” Osiris asked.

“The space stone. It is embedded in an instrument called the Tesseract.” Loki drew his hands together, thumbnail pressing into his palm. “With the Allfather gone, we feel that you, your Highness, are one of the few beings with the power and means to protect the Tesseract now.”

“I see.” Osiris let go of his staff, but it remained standing upright beside his throne. He clasped his fingers, drawing them up to his lips as he regarded Loki. “The relics in Odin’s Vault are known even beyond his Nine Realms. I am not unfamiliar with the treasures he stored there, nor do I underestimate the protection under which they were kept.”

He gave pause, as if to let his words sink in. “You are correct in that we, too, have treasures which require the most powerful protection,” he went on. “Your Tesseract would be safe stored among my prizes, dear prince.”

Even though Loki was aware that his own separation from the Tesseract would not ensure his safety from the Titan, he felt a great weight lifting from his shoulders at Osiris’s words. He pressed his lips together, taking a moment to catch his breath before he responded. “I thank you very much, your Highness.”

Osiris held up a hand. “Understand that in asking this of myself and my people, you are burdening us with the danger associated with possession of an Infinity stone. I am not ignorant of the beings who seek the gems for their own gain, nor of the power that these beings possess.” He looked at Loki so pointedly that Loki had to wonder if Osiris was familiar with the Titan, if he truly did understand what Asgard – what Loki – was asking of him.

“Know that I would not consider aid of troops a sufficient debt to render such a cost,” Osiris continued, “but Odin came to my rescue once in a way that I can never truly repay. This, however, may serve to even the debt.”

Loki gave a nod, but curiosity crossed his features, unsure of what Osiris was referring to if not aid against the Elves of Otherworld. “May I inquire as to the nature of the debt to which you refer?” he couldn’t help but ask.

“You may inquire, but I shall not answer yet, for it is a story that would take more time than we have right now.” Osiris smiled, his gaze flicking over Loki fully before he lifted a hand and snapped his fingers. Almost as if they materialized from thin air, the throne room was suddenly swarmed with a handful of servants, who drew near to both Loki and Valkyrie.

“It would be an honor to have you stay with us tonight,” Osiris said kindly. “You will dine with my court and my staff will attend to your needs for the evening. We will speak further, then, of the Tesseract and of your father.”

Loki glanced over at Valkyrie. She lifted her shoulders at him and, taking that as acquiescence, Loki gave Osiris a smile in return. “We gratefully accept your invitation,” he said, and Osiris looked pleased.

“I bid you farewell until this evening, then.” Osiris wrapped his hand around his staff again and tapped it against the floor, once. The sound sent the servants into a flurry of motion.

One of them bowed at Loki and Valkyrie and said, “Please, follow me, and I will show you to your rooms.”

“Thank you.” Loki and Valkyrie fell into step with the servants, allowing themselves to be guided through the palace. Once they had left the throne room behind, Loki let out a breath, feeling some of the tension leave his body.

“That went well,” Valkyrie remarked, nudging her shoulder against Loki’s. “What a diplomat.”

Loki frowned. “I was raised a prince,” he reminded her. “I am more than capable of being diplomatic when the occasion warrants it.”

“I wasn’t teasing you,” she said, rolling her eyes. “For Norn’s sake, you’re always so touchy. I was giving you a _compliment._ ”

“Oh.” She was right – he was touchy, more often than not, always on the defensive even when he didn’t want to be. Loki drew in a breath and let it out slowly, and then changed the subject altogether. “So … Brunnhilde,” he remarked.

Valkyrie stared straight ahead, but there was a bit of color in her cheeks, and a smile tugging insistently at the corners of her mouth. “Hey. If you’d ever _asked_ my name, I’d have told you ages ago.”

Loki opened his mouth, but no words came out. At the look on his face, Valkyrie laughed, swatting her fingers against his arm.

“Fair enough,” he grumbled, but he was having a hard time hiding his own amusement. He felt a rush of affection for her then, along with gratitude that Thor insisted Loki bring her along. Her presence and her teasing was making him feel more at ease and the terror of the Sanctuary was receding further and further into the back of his mind. “I suppose you’ll want me to stop calling you Valkyrie, then.”

“I like being called Valkyrie, actually. Particularly by you.” She looked away, shrugging her shoulders.

The response caught him off guard. Loki felt his heart skip a beat and he swallowed the feeling down. Before he had to answer, they’d reached a hall and one of the servants stopped in front of a set of doors. “Prince Loki,” he said, “these are to be your quarters for the evening. If you’ll follow me.”

Loki nodded in acknowledgement. Valkyrie was looking back at him with that tiny smile that he sometimes saw in his mind’s eye before falling asleep at night, that smile she’d first given him when he’d gifted Dagny her special king-piece. “I’ll see you at _náttmál_ , my prince,” she said, and the grin tugged wider.

He rolled his eyes, but there was only warmth in his tone when he replied, “Yes. I’ll see you then, dear Valkyrie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Osiris, Heliopolis, and Otherworld are all taken from a mixture of comic canon as well as Egyptian mythology. However, my interpretation is _loosely_ based on these foundations and I am taking a fair amount of liberty in order to fit them into this story. You can find more canon information on Marvel's Osiris [here.](http://marvel.wikia.com/wiki/Osiris_\(Earth-616\))
> 
> 2\. Similarly, my interpretation of Thanos here is very loosely based on what we got in Infinity War. 
> 
> 3\. Even though Loki now knows Val's real name, the narrative will still refer to her as Valkyrie for the sake of consistency. Valkyrie liking the way he says her name is directly inspired [by](https://78.media.tumblr.com/2ac15e01a78a47b9299acf1010b12567/tumblr_oyz2ypvvvb1uujbcio3_500.gif) [these](https://78.media.tumblr.com/97a3bf2d95575352fdd29a9e86707284/tumblr_oyz2ypvvvb1uujbcio4_500.gif) [gifs.](https://78.media.tumblr.com/469c28acf8ed7e469fc45e3c81bafc00/tumblr_oyz2ypvvvb1uujbcio6_500.gif) Credit for all cuteness therein goes to Tessa Thompson and Tom Hiddleston. 
> 
> 4\. Finally, I'm on [tumblr](http://iamanartichoke.tumblr.com/) a lot these days, so feel free to follow me! As always, thank you so much for reading, commenting, and leaving kudos! ♥


	27. XXVII.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am genuinely sorry for how long this chapter is. Loki thinks about stuff a _lot,_ so there's probably too much narration going on, but this what came out. Anyway, please comment if you wish, they make my soul sing.

 

**XXVII.**

Loki had very much forgotten how it felt to be treated as royalty. After returning to Asgard in chains, the only comforts provided to him in the dungeons were a private cell and whatever small luxuries his mother could smuggle to him without catching Odin’s attention. Once he’d taken Odin’s place, he’d walked a fine line between allowing his staff to dote on him in public while spending increasing amounts of time behind closed doors alone, refusing servants to aid him with such simple things as helping him dress and bathe, as Loki returned to his own form to do those things and to sleep, as well. Looking back, the nature of such a break in protocol should have raised eyebrows, but to the mildly curious and slightly critical, many of Odin’s inconsistencies were brushed aside as his way of dealing with the grief of losing Frigga to death and Thor to Midgard and Loki to madness (and death, though Loki was not convinced Odin would have mourned that, had it been true).

In the palace of Osiris, however, Loki was treated not just as a guest of the king but as a prince in his own right, and the staff did not cut any corners. His quarters were lavish and luxurious, decorated in pristine hues of white and gold with comfortable furniture, an opulent bed covered in more pillows than a bed ought to rightly have, and a bathing chamber with a pool large enough for five Asgardians to languish in. When Loki was brought into the room, the servants were already flurrying around, running a bath, choosing his garments for the evening meal, and not letting him take so much as a step without asking him what he needed in order to be more comfortable.

It was very strange to think that there was a time in his life during which he would not have thought twice at such treatment, but now he found it uncomfortable and a bit overwhelming. Loki was polite about it until one of the servants reached for his overcoat - which was still fastened around his throat - with a demure, “Allow me, my prince,” and then Loki snapped.

“Do not _touch_ me,” he snarled, jerking out of the servant’s grip, and the servant shrank back with wide eyes. Loki exhaled a breath, reaching up to straighten his coat, and closed his eyes for a moment before he spoke again. “Forgive me,” he said, with some difficulty. He offered the servant a small, strained smile. “I am simply tired from my journey. If you’ll all excuse me, I’d like to be alone for awhile.”

The servant nodded hesitantly, and another one asked, “May we run the bath for you?”

“Yes, all right,” Loki agreed. If it would make them leave faster.

Most of the servants did clear out, and Loki sank down on the edge of the bed, twisting his fingers in the silky, downy blankets until the remaining two servants emerged from the bathing chambers. “Your bath is ready. If you require assistance, please -”

“I’ll find you,” Loki promised.

“Very good, sir.” The servants bowed and then let themselves out of the quarters. Once Loki was truly alone, he exhaled a long breath and rubbed his eyes, then dropped down onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling. This bed was so soft and warm, he thought. His indulgence in drink and his experience with the Titan and the drain of travel all seemed to catch up to him at once. He could feel languid drowsiness crawling over him, even as he tried to resist it. For all he knew, sleep would once again return him to the Sanctuary.

To ward it off, Loki forced himself to his feet again. His bones ached in protest of leaving the soft bed, but he went to the bathing chamber. Inside, with the door safely closed, Loki faced himself in the mirror. There were tight lines around his mouth and stubborn shadows beneath his eyes. He unclasped his coat with fingers that trembled slightly and then lowered his collar to peer, again, at the bruises. They were still there, still so faint he had to lean in to see them clearly enough, but they were doubtlessly in the shape of large fingers - a splash of ghostly color against his pale skin. Loki ran his fingers over the bruises, turning his face one way and then the other, watching the tendons in his throat stretch taut.

As badly as Loki wanted to believe he was imagining things, that he’d simply had a particularly vivid nightmare, he knew that was not the case. Deep down, he suspected he would know it even if the Titan had not left his mark physically. Loki remembered what the Other had told him - _if the Tesseract is kept from us, there will be no realm, no barren moon, no crevasse where he cannot find you._ At the time, Loki had known it to be true, but as the words echoed in his mind years later, he felt his stomach twist with just _how_ true they were. The Titan was still connected to him in mind and soul and had been thus this entire time. Perhaps, the Tesseract strengthened the bond; perhaps, the Titan was simply that powerful. Either way - Heliopolis, or Midgard, or Deaphus, or anywhere else, Loki was not safe. His reckoning was still to come, and there was truly no place to hide.

He wanted to get rid of the Tesseract, so much that it burned. There was a time, not so long ago, when the Tesseract was the only thing he wanted in the universe, and now the only thing he wanted was to be a million miles away from it. Ridding himself of the cube would throw the Titan off of his track, for a time, but it would not make Loki safe. Eventually, Thanos would catch up to him.

Loki stood there, thinking himself in circles, until he realized that time was passing him by and that he would be expected at the evening meal soon. He pushed himself away from the counter so that he could continue undressing. He paused in the mirror long enough to look at the jagged scar running along his sternum. If only he had stayed dead on Svartalfheim, he thought regretfully. Before the thought could take hold, he turned away from his reflection and climbed into the bathing pool, allowing himself to sink down as far as he could beneath the water. It had grown lukewarm during the time he’d spent at the mirror, but it was more comfortable to him that way. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, making the effort to clear his thoughts of everything.

* * *

It was palace custom to keep garments of the kingdom’s standard of dress for guests, especially if entertaining, and Heliopolis was no different from Asgard in this. The servants had laid out clothes for him that, Loki discovered, were just slightly too big. They should not have been, for a man of his height, but he’d lost weight since the beginning of this journey and had not yet gained it back. Loki used a flicker of seiðr to adjust them to the correct size.

Regardless of size, they were certainly suited for a prince: he was adorned in black silk with small, intricate patterns woven in gold and he was grateful that the sleeves reached down to his wrists and the collar covered his throat. The boots that went with the outfit were so comfortable it was almost like wearing bed slippers.

When Loki looked himself over in the mirror, he thought that though the black made his skin look even paler - and thus the shadows under his eyes and along his cheekbones more pronounced - his eyes looked very green.

Overall, he was not _unpleasant_ to look at.

Briefly, Loki allowed himself to entertain the idea that the Valkyrie would agree with that assessment. Somehow, without his noticing, his tolerance of her friendship seemed to not only have taken root but sprung new growth. Infatuation was an easy, natural state to slide into. It was never the state that intimidated Loki, made him shy away. That came later, when the thrill wore off and Loki could not keep himself from constantly locking the doors to his heart, his mind, his intimacy. Lovers grew weary of constantly knocking only to be denied entrance.

He had not courted anyone or even taken a lover since before his fall. It had seemed the least important thing in the universe to be concerned with. Loki was already entangled in a fascinating affair with tragedy and treachery, nursing his broken heart. He was simply not interested in anything else.

Now … whatever he felt for the Valkyrie was most inconvenient, but it would surely pass if he simply ignored it.

The evening meal was to be held in Osiris’s grand dining hall. Loki stayed in his quarters until three servants arrived to escort him, as was both customary as well as practical. Word of his earlier annoyance must have spread through the servants, as Loki noticed that though they were as polite and helpful as ever, none of them moved to touch him.

“You look magnificent, Prince Loki,” one of the servants complimented with a wide smile, and Loki nodded in return.

“Thank you,” he said simply, pulling lightly at his sleeves so they stayed firmly at his wrists.

Given the rest of the palace, Loki was impressed but not surprised with the opulence of the dining hall. The long table in the center of the room held chairs enough for twenty people, though none were sitting yet. As the king had not yet entered, his guests mingled amongst themselves. They sipped from goblets and sampled fruits and cheeses from trays carried by servants. It reminded Loki very much of Asgard’s feasts, where Odin’s court and council would gather and drink and be merry.

Thor always loved partaking in such feasts, Loki thought, happy to have even more of an audience to fawn over him. Loki was the dark blight beside him, resentful both of having to make small talk with people who bored him and of Thor’s easy personability. It was not lost on Loki, even at a young age, how many people flocked to be in Thor’s company, eager to lap up a bit of Thor’s sunshine like mutts gnawing desperately at a bone picked clean.

Loki wondered if there would ever be a time when he would be able to think of his brother as simply _his brother_ , without Thor’s identity being twisted up in the centuries of resentment that had festered below the surface until Loki’s descent into madness allowed them to break free. He accepted a goblet of wine when it was offered to him, and as he took a sip, it tasted sweet on his tongue - yet another reminder of Asgard, of Thor, of all those years cherished and wasted at once.

Fortunately, Valkyrie arrived before Loki could get too lost in his thoughts. He did a bit of a double-take when he saw her. He’d only seen her wearing comfortable pants and tunics, or her armor, but tonight, she had been dressed suitably for a royal meal. She, too, had been given black clothes. Hers was a dress that left her shoulders and neckline bare and clung to the curves of her body. She was wearing a heavy golden necklace and earrings that dangled nearly to her collarbone; her hair was shining, styled elaborately with curls and golden gems that glistened every time she turned her head.

When she entered the dining hall, escorted by four servants, she looked almost uncomfortable, which Loki noticed only because it was such a strange expression to see her wearing. In the time he’d known her and even since they’d let down their guards around one another, he’d never seen her ill at ease, but now she was twisting her hands together, biting her lip, her gaze darting around the room until it reached Loki’s.

Wordlessly, Loki lifted his goblet in silent toast. The discomfort fell from her features and she grinned, hurrying across the room to join him. “Thank the Norns you’re already here,” she greeted him. “I thought I would have to make small talk with _nobles_ and I’d rather impale myself on my dragonfang. Oh, thank you,” she added to a passing servant, accepting her own goblet of wine, which she tipped her head back and swallowed in one gulp. “You look nice,” she added.

Loki felt his lips twitching in amusement, which he hid by taking another sip of wine. He noticed a long scar just above her collarbone which disappeared below the line of her dress and wondered, briefly, how she’d gotten it. “My sentiments for you, exactly,” was all he said. “One might even say you look stunning.”

“That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” Valkyrie said, tossing her hair a bit. The gems sparkled every which way.

“I said _one_ might say you look stunning. I didn’t say that _one_ would be _me_ ,” Loki returned, and now he could not hide his grin. Valkyrie rolled her eyes and laughed, shaking her head.

“And now you’ve gone and ruined it. Just as well.” She looked around and caught the eye of another servant; when she lifted her hand, the servant hurried over with a new goblet. “This dress is much too tight, these shoes hurt, and my hair actually feels _heavy_ . I never missed being at court, but I _especially_ did not miss the dress code.”

“Did anyone ever tell you how charming you are?” he asked her with a slight laugh. “I imagine you’ll have numerous suitors eager to court you by the end of the night.”

“Only if the women - and men, for that matter - pass you up first,” she replied, her gaze flicking over him. She sipped from her goblet, lips tilting a bit at the corners. “Just don’t bring any, uh, _visitors_ back to your chambers and leave me to fend for myself with these people,” she added.

Loki snorted. “Don’t be foolish,” he said, shaking his head. “The pleasure of my company is yours alone.”

“Mm.” She lifted her eyebrows at him. “Aren’t you notoriously the god of lies?”

“Mischief,” he corrected, “and I only lie when the occasion warrants it. I’ve no reason to lie to you, dear Valkyrie.”

“Then I shall believe you,” she decided, and flashed him a smile that lit up her eyes. She was truly a vision, Loki thought, and he had to look away from her. He brought his goblet to his lips and focused on the sweet sting of wine while his gaze traveled the room, sizing up the guests. There was a startling lack of variety in the colors they wore. Each seemed to be dressed in black, white, or silver paired with gold. In Asgard, feasts had always been celebrations of color, but Loki had not cared for that, either, because each member of the royal family had specific colors and at official meals and feasts, guests were to dress in one of those colors to pay tribute.

It was a long-standing custom, in Asgard, and Loki had hated it since he was old enough to understand what it meant when he saw a sea of Thor’s red and silver, clusters of Odin’s gold and amber, and batches of Frigga’s cerulean and cobalt. There was usually only a smattering of green and black. It bothered Loki more than he cared to admit - yet another slight against him, evidence that Loki was not as favored simply by his nature of being _Loki_ . It was the kind of subtle slight that Thor would likely say was imagined _,_ as well.

He felt Valkyrie’s fingers against his arm and he looked back at her, lifting his eyebrows a bit.

“Don’t spend so much time lost in thought tonight,” she said quietly. “We’re here to have a good time, are we not?”

Loki forced a smile and nodded. “Yes. It’s just that sometimes my thoughts get away from me, and I cannot help but follow them.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked.

“No.” Despite himself, Loki grinned a little. “I’ve not yet had enough wine for that.”

“Then, for heaven's’ sake, we must get you some more at once.” Valkyrie laughed and raised her glass to gesture to a servant. They traded their empty goblets for newly filled ones, and Valkyrie tipped hers toward him in a motion he returned.

“ _Skål,_ ” he said, out of habit. It was what his family had always said before partaking in _náttmál_ each evening.

“ _Skål,”_ she returned, and tapped her goblet lightly against his. Their eyes met as they sipped. Something about the way that she was looking at him made him very aware of his own pulse, which throbbed in his throat.

He thought he saw a bit of color rise to her cheeks, and it was only then that she looked away. Loki swallowed hard. He took a moment to acknowledge the twisting in his stomach, the stutter of his heartbeat, and then tried to force it away.

“Valkyrie,” he began, but he did not know what he wished to say and was spared from having to try. She glanced back at him with lifted brows, but just then a few musical notes sounded and the guests immediately quieted, the din of voices falling at once.

“It seems the king is arriving,” he said instead.

“Looks like,” she agreed.

Indeed, the king’s entrance was what had brought the guests to a pause. This was a custom that was not shared by Asgard, and Loki watched with interest as each member of the royal family was formally introduced before entering the dining hall. The king’s son, Horus, strode in as confidently as Thor would have. He beamed a smile made of the sun and Loki disliked him immediately.

After Horus came Osiris’s wife, the queen Isis. She had a long mane of jet-black hair and was dressed in white and gold, with elaborate jewelry and a smile like Horus’s. On her, Loki did not dislike it. It seemed suited to her regal grace.

Finally, Osiris himself was welcomed into the dining hall to reverent applause. He’d traded his green and gray armor for white and gold to match his wife, though he also wore a magnificent gold and sapphire striped headdress. He strode to the head of the table and lifted his hands, a gesture which commanded complete silence.

“Welcome, friends and honored guests,” Osiris rumbled. “Tonight, we dine with visiting royalty from the honored kingdom of Asgard.” He paused, eyes searching the crowd until he found Loki and Valkyrie and a smile crossed his face. “I present to you Prince Loki of Asgard and Lady Brunnhilde, the last Valkyrie. They have traveled a great distance and come to us as allies of the Crown. We shall not forget Asgard’s aid in our triumph against the Elves of Otherworld, and we most humbly pay tribute to their presence and their realm this night.”

Osiris paused, letting the thunder of applause surround them, and Loki felt warmth spread to his cheeks. Contrary to what most believed, Loki did not actually crave the attention of the spotlight. It made him feel uncomfortably exposed, especially if he was being praised. The praise and attention always somehow felt like a mockery, like it was only a matter of time before the people realized he was a liar and a monster and their praise would turn to jeers.

When the applause died down again, Osiris continued. “Loki and Brunnhilde, I invite you to take your seats with me at the head of my table. My friends, let us all dine!”

Once again, applause. Loki and Valkyrie shared a quick smile at this strange custom. They were shown to seats at Osiris’s right side, while Isis and Horus took the two opposite. After they five had sat down, the rest of the guests began finding their way to seats around the table, the volume of chatter and laughter picking up once again.

Glancing around at the table, Loki thinks that while this world is so very much like Asgard in many respects, it was so very different from Deaphus. Whether it was because Briony was such a young queen or because Deaphus was such a small world, he did not know. Loki had observed the Deaphans’ generosity with their home and their wealth, but he had not observed the opulent displays of royalty that Helipolis - and Asgard, for that matter - were eager to show off.

Strangely, Loki found that he almost preferred the quiet, unassuming court of Deaphus.

They made polite small talk, exchanging pleasantries about the food and the condition of their guest quarters, but once the main course had been served, Osiris cleared his throat and met Loki’s eyes. “I believe I promised you a story,” he said simply.

“Yes, I believe so,” Loki agreed. “I am rather curious to hear it. My father was not particularly forthcoming with his politics, beyond what we as princes were required to know about the state of our affairs.” His deception and fondness for secrets outside of politics was another matter entirely. Loki kept his expression impassive.

“Yes, Odin was not the forthcoming sort,” Osiris agreed.

“That, and it is not a pleasant tale,” Isis interjected. She looked uncomfortable, the lines of her jaw tight. “Must we bring up this ugly business, husband?”

“The boy deserves to know,” Osiris replied smoothly. “We owe Asgard a great debt. The prince should understand why we are willing to grant him what he asks for.”

Isis sighed, lifting a hand to brush her long fringe away from her eyes. Several gold bracelets on her arm jingled with the movement.

“We don’t wish to bring up any unpleasant memories,” Valkyrie said. Loki had lost count of how many goblets she’d downed by that point, but she sounded very alert and sober. If nothing else, she could certainly hold her alcohol. “Nor do we wish the scales of goodwill to be unfairly balanced. We are asking a great burden of your people, and it only stands to reason we may get a tale in return.”

“Very well said,” Horus remarked, staring intently at Valkyrie. Loki suddenly disliked him even more. Valkyrie did not seem to notice his gaze or the broad smile he gave her from across the table. In his lap, Loki closed one fist, feeling the comforting sting as his nails dug in hard. His false smile felt pasted on his face. He should not care enough about Valkyrie to react so strongly to another man’s attentions.

“Then so be it,” Osiris said decisively. Isis still looked unhappy, even a little angry, but she did not speak up again. Osiris paused to cut a bit of meat from his plate, as if gathering his thoughts. He took a bite and chewed slowly before he spoke again. “I was once a young, arrogant king,” he began, returning his gaze to Loki’s face. “I was heir apparent to my father’s throne and grew up with the confidence befitting of a young man who believed himself both infallible and entitled. My younger brother, Seth, resented this greatly. We never quite got along, Seth and I.” Osiris paused to allow a flicker of a rueful smile to cross his face.

Loki was not aware that he had tensed completely until he felt Valkyrie touch his knee beneath the table. He forced himself to exhale, to keep his features neutral yet politely interested in Osiris’s words.

“It must have been difficult,” Valkyrie said.

“Yes, very much so. I _wanted_ to love Seth as I should love a brother, but … I did not love him,” he admitted. “I wished myself rid of him, for he was the dark blight in an otherwise shiny life.”

He could have been speaking aloud all the things Loki had ever feared about Thor. Loki was the dark shadow that did not belong, that dampened the sun. Loki felt his heart thudding in his ears, a pounding sensation at the base of his skull. These things existed in a tight ball at the core of Loki’s insecurities, but by speaking them aloud, Osiris was unraveling the ball, tangling up the strings.

What if Thor really did feel these things?

Osiris was speaking again, but Loki missed what was said. He cleared his throat and forced himself to focus, to think of nothing but the tale Osiris told him. “By the time I was king and Seth and I were no longer boys, Seth’s dislike of me had grown into hatred. He hated that I sat upon the throne and desired it for himself - not because he believed himself a better ruler, but because he believed he deserved it more.”

“He deserved it not,” Isis said interjected flatly. “Not by birth and certainly not by strength of character.”

“I think that’s pretty clear,” Horus replied, rolling his eyes. Loki was appalled at the dismissive way he spoke to his mother.

“Seth set his sights upon the throne, and would not rest until he sat upon it.” Osiris paused again to eat a bit more, and to gesture to a servant that he desired more wine. While the servant replaced his goblet, Valkyrie finished the rest of hers and Loki noticed the servant change out her glass, too. The pause Osiris was taking felt torturous. Valkyrie’s hand still rested upon his knee, and he found himself grasping for it, squeezing her fingers in his own. She squeezed back without hesitation, though she did toss him a look of mild surprise.

“I would like to say madness fueled Seth’s desire for power, or that his resentment of me as heir apparent had simply festered too long. Those things, perhaps we could have come back from. But it was not to be. Seth was evil. There is no other word for it. He had a black heart. We fought, but he was able to overpower me at long last, and I … well, I did not survive.”

Loki almost dropped his wine goblet either from surprise or dismay or both. He clenched his fingers around the stem with one hand, and clenched Valkyrie’s fingers tighter with the other. “I beg your pardon?”

“Seth murdered him,” Isis said sharply. Osiris winced, but Isis did not waver. “If we must speak of the horrid affair, speak it plainly for what it is.” She directed her gaze at Loki, and he found himself wanting to shrink from her steely hazel eyes. He lifted his chin instead. “Seth murdered and dismembered Osiris. We are gods, and death is not always a finality, but Seth tried to make it so. He separated Osiris into fourteen pieces that he hid, scattered, in Egypt. It took years, during which Seth sat upon the throne, but Horus and I found them all, and I drew upon ancient magic to make him whole again.”

A tremor washed over Loki and his throat was very dry. Could _he_ have ever gone so mad as to do such a horrendous thing to Thor? At the height of his madness, during the Battle of New York, he had _craved_ violence, wished to rain his rage down in blood upon the Avengers, on the Chitauri, on the ignorant, tiny mortals who paraded around their planet with no care of the turmoil of the rest of the universe.

His mind had very much not been his own, but the rage was real, the desire to kill was real. The difference was that, when he was in his right mind, the only thing he wished to kill was the monster inside of himself.

Loki’s skin crawled with the gory violence of Seth’s deed and thought of Thor again. No, _he_ could never do such a thing, he told himself. Even in madness he could not bring himself to kill Thor. The closest he’d come was dropping him from the helicarrier in the beast’s glass cage. Then, Thor had his strength and Mjolnir and Loki was concerned more with getting Thor out of his way than anything else. He had not doubted for a second that Thor would survive the fall.

Somehow, he found his voice. “That is … horrific,” he finally said. “I can’t imagine that your own brother would do such a heinous thing.”

“We are sorry to hear of it,” Valkyrie added.

Osiris nodded, bringing his goblet to his lips once more. “As I said, Seth’s heart was black.”

This was something Odin had to have known about. He had to have seen how far even brothers were willing to go in order to possess the throne. He had not warned Thor or Loki, had not done anything useful. Osiris sang Odin’s praises with genuine regard, but he did not know Odin as a father or how closely Odin’s family mirrored his own.

His grip tightened on Valkyrie’s hand, and she turned his fingers over, palm up, rubbing the pad of her thumb over the skin there, an imitation of the nervous habit he’d fallen on so many times in her presence.

“Did Odin assist you in this magic?” Valkyrie asked simply.

“No, we did not call upon Odin until after,” Osiris replied. Horus, whom Loki had almost forgotten was there, chose to speak up.

“We fought the best we could, but Seth had grown too powerful,” he said to Loki, almost defensively, as if he found shame in coming to Odin for help. Loki’s eyes flicked over him in disdain before he looked back at Osiris, not acknowledging the other prince’s words.

“The conflict between my brother and I lasted many, many years,” Osiris told them, “and it did not appear that I would be the victor. I called upon the Allfather, whose power and sorcery was so widely revered that it reached us even here in Heliopolis, and Odin responded. With his might and his aid, we quickly gained the advantaged over Seth. And ultimately, it was Odin who delivered the blow that inured Seth badly enough that we were able to overpower him.” He let a beat pass. “He was swallowed into the world beneath our golden bridge. We have been rid of his plague ever since.”

Loki let out a breath, his shoulders slumping a bit. Such a generous ally, Odin, swooping in at the eleventh hour, probably on Sleipnir, to save the king. And he’d never spoken a word of it to Loki or to Thor. “How long ago was this?” he heard himself ask.

“About two thousand years ago.” Osiris tilted his head, and then offered Loki a smile. “Give or take a few centuries.”

So it had all happened before Thor and Loki had even been born. Centuries of hate and bloodlust followed by millenia of peace and prosperity. Loki glanced around the dining hall, taking in the opulent decorations, the smiling guests, the easy chatter. Osiris was clearly a good king, and clearly beloved of his people. What had Seth’s reign looked like? Not like Loki’s, surely. Disguised as Odin, he quietly withdrew troops from other Realms and poured his focus into prosperity on Asgard. He brought theatre and literature and art to the forefront, because politics were so _boring_ , and if Odin approved of these maidenly pursuits, the Asgardian culture adapted to appreciate them anew.

It had given Loki some modicum of satisfaction to see large groups of people turning up at the theatre, to overhear discussions of poetry and fairy tales. But the satisfaction was always marred with resentment and bitterness - it was so _simple_ for him, as Odin, to bestow acceptance upon things that were important to Loki. If the real Odin had ever extended even such a small courtesy to make Loki’s life a little bit easier, how different might things have turned out?

Loki supposed he would never know. Valkyrie’s thumb against his palm was soothing, but it was not enough. He felt suffocated under the weight of what he’d just learned and overwhelmed at the prospect of negotiating with Osiris further, as what was left of Asgard still had need of the golden bridge. He drained his goblet, but held out a hand of refusal when a servant tried to give him a new one. The wine was sweet and comforting, but Loki did not wish to become inebriated again in his current frame of mind, and certainly not with the Valkyrie to witness how he might come apart at the seams if given even the slightest nudge. No, he needed to keep his wits about him.

A long enough silence fell in the wake of Osiris’s last words that Isis finally asked, “Have we concluded talk of this unpleasantness? I would very much like to speak of other things.”

Osiris reached for her hand and clasped it in his own, bringing her knuckles to his lips. “As you wish, my beloved wife,” he responded.

* * *

Loki was quiet during the rest of the meal. He tried to participate in the festivities as best as he could. Osiris seemed remarkably calm about the whole affair, though arguably he’d had quite a long time to adjust. Even Isis relaxed after awhile, made pliant by Osiris’s gentle flirtations and warm smiles. Loki offered commentary on simple things, when the conversation allowed, and Valkyrie spoke much more to make up for his lack of it. By the end of the meal Horus had moved his attention to another woman, flirting rather shamelessly. This one was much more receptive to his charms and her giggles increased in volume as the night went on and she drained more wine.

After the final, very sweet course had been both served and cleared away, and many of the guests were lazily sipping wine, picking at fruits, and carrying on with their conversations and laughter, Loki finally deemed that he had spent an appropriate amount of time at the table. Before taking their leave, Loki requested to meet privately with Osiris the following morning, before he and Valkyrie embarked on their journey back to Deaphus, and Osiris agreed. Loki would hand over the Tesseract then, and try to barter for use of the golden bridge. He was too tired and drained to broach either subject this night.

Loki and Valkyrie did not speak until the great doors of the dining hall had closed behind them and the voices within it grew faint and indistinguishable. Loki had refused the servants’ escort, preferring to be alone with Valkyrie for awhile, but once they found themselves walking down the main outdoor corridor which wound around the palace and offered a startling view of the evening sky, drenched in stars, Loki found that he did not know what to say.

Valkyrie spoke, rubbing her hands against her biceps. “It was so hot when we arrived,” she remarked, “Freezing now.”

“I did not notice,” he admitted, and Valkyrie slid a sideways glance at him before making a non-committal noise. She turned her face away and looked out across the expanse of stars. Loki followed her gaze, noting just how _many_ stars there were here. The sky seemed almost blanketed with them. He suspected it would be beautiful to fall through them.

“I fell through the stars once,” he heard himself say. Valkyrie lifted her eyebrows. “I fell from the Bifrost. Never in my life had I been more terrified, yet simultaneously so eager for death to whisk me into her grasp.”

Loki leaned against the corridor ledge, resting his forearms against the white concrete. He was aware of Valkyrie coming to stand beside him, but still she said nothing. He twisted his fingers together, remembering that horrible, sickening moment when his hand, in the grip of a frost giant, turned blue. Everything he’d ever known as truth had shattered as his armor had shattered, unable to withstand icy weight of what had befallen it. “I say I _fell,_ but that makes it seem accidental. In truth, I let go. I think I let go,” he repeated, a little less certainly. He still doubted his own memory, but he was almost sure he let go.

“Why?” Valkyrie asked simply.

“Because … I’d gotten myself into the most inconvenient scuffle with Thor,” Loki said, adopting a breezy tone. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

She turned to face him, resting her elbows against the ledge. She did not smile, just let her gaze travel so openly across his face that he felt himself grow still, uneasy. “God of lies,” she murmured. “I thought you said you had no reason to lie to me.”

“At the time, I didn’t.” Loki let out a breath, turning his eyes back toward the sky. “I only meant to say that after that, I was never overly fond of space travel. But the experience did not change that the stars are one of the universe’s great wonders, for how brilliant they are. I appreciate that, still.”

Valkyrie considered that, glancing over her shoulder at the expanse. “You remember that orange you gave me?”

“Of course,” he returned, mildly irritated that she thought he’d forget. Much had happened between that night in the kitchen and this one on Heliopolis, but though Loki’s mind was fragmented, he was not _senile_. “Did the illusion persist when my seiðr was gone? I wondered.”

“It did,” she told him, and a smile ghosted across her lips. “I love that stupid thing. It’s such a small bauble - a child’s trick, as you said. But for how right you are about the brilliance of stars, in all of my travels I’ve never seen a night sky as beautiful as Asgard’s.” A momentary sadness fell over her, and she chewed her lip. “It’s truly a shame that it is gone, but the bauble makes me feel like I have a piece of it still.”

Her attention was still focused on the sky, but if she were to look at Loki, she would find open astonishment in his features. He would not have imagined his silly trick would hold any meaning for her, let alone so _much_ meaning.

“It feels like home,” she added, more softly.

Loki’s heart gave a painful lurch against his ribs. For a strange moment, he almost felt like he wanted to cry. He did not even know what home _was_.

“I am … honored that you’ve found so much value in my gift,” he said, with some difficulty. “But do not linger under the assumption that it was given to you for any altruistic reasons. I merely wanted to impress you with something Thor could not do.” The words were so startlingly honest that he wondered if it was possible that he was still drunk from their drinking binge on the ship. Loki dropped his gaze, not wanting to see whatever look she would give him at his admittance of such pettiness. “The tale Osiris told … that could have been me and Thor. It nearly _was_ me and Thor. I’m not a good person, Valkyrie.”

Valkyrie regarded him silently, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. She simply studied him for a long moment and then said, “I won’t coddle you with empty reassurance of your good heart, Loki. I know how empty such words can seem when you cannot bring yourself to believe them. When you loathe yourself so much that you find fault in everything you are, everything you _breathe_ , these reassurances feel more like insults.”

His breath hitched, for that was _exactly_ how he would have taken her words, were she to reassure him. “Yes,” he agreed softly. “That’s how they feel.”

“I know it well.” She laced her own fingers together. “I comfort myself with the knowledge that very few entirely good or entirely bad. You and I, we fall somewhere in the middle. Thor does, too. But someone like Seth … _that_ is what evil looks like, Loki.”

“And what makes you so sure,” he dared to ask, “that I won’t become that eventually? That I wouldn’t turn on my own brother in such a way?” He meant it to come out as a challenge, but his voice betrayed him; it was very quiet, hesitant.

“How can I ever be sure of such a thing?” she countered. “Nothing is certain in this life, but I know you love Thor. I don’t think you even realize how much you love him. You two have this complicated _thing_ and a lot of unpleasant history, but you’re more brothers than it seems Osiris and Seth ever were. Besides.” Her lips tilt upward, but there’s more sadness in her expression than any trace of amusement. “I saw the look on your face when you learned what Seth had done. I very much doubt you are capable of being so heinous.”

Loki pressed his lips together, very aware of both her words and how close they were standing. For some reason, Loki thought of the lives he’d taken in New York and realized he’d never even asked how many had perished then. Human lives were so fleeting, so expendable that it had never seemed to matter. Once, he’d defended his actions by way of reminding his mother that the number of lives he’d taken was insignificant compared to how much death Odin had brought about.

At the time, he had not known the true extent of it, could not have even imagined the destruction Odin had wrought with Hela at his side. But sometimes, somewhere deep inside of himself, Loki had found comfort in the fact that he had not killed as his father had killed: cognizant of his actions, fully in control, and without thought to the civilizations left crushed in his wake. He found comfort in that his actions were confined to a tiny portion of a tiny city on a tiny, human world.

Now, he thought of how upset Isis had been at the meal. He thought of the hard edge in her voice when she’d revealed what had happened to Osiris. How she must have grieved her husband - how she must grieve him still, no matter how many hundreds of years had passed. For every human life Loki had taken, somewhere there was an Isis, a loved one who mourned the loss and could not call upon magic to retrieve them from the land of the dead. They would spend the rest of their miniscule lives grieving what could never be recovered, and the blame for that lay solely on Loki’s shoulders.

For the first time, he truly felt the remorse he should have felt all along.

“That tale really got to you, didn’t it.” Valkyrie had been quietly observing the play of emotions across his face, for Loki had not tried to shield them, and he swallowed hard, giving a tiny nod of affirmation before he let himself meet her gaze again.

“I’m sorry,” he said, for he had wronged her, too.

“For what?” Her brow furrowed.

Hesitantly, Loki reached out and touched her forehead, very lightly, before drawing back again. “For that,” he said simply. “What I did to you when we fought. At the time, I thought only to gain the upper hand, but that isn’t an excuse. I’m sorry, Valkyrie.”

Valkyrie’s eyes widened a bit, as if she had never expected him to make the concession and did not know what to do with it now that he had. For a few moments she was quiet, and then her shoulders slumped a bit and she nodded with an exhale of breath. “It wasn’t … personal,” she acknowledged, “but nor was it pleasant. I appreciate and accept your apology, though.”

Loki felt something like relief spread through him at her words. “Can I share something with you?”

“Yes.”

He did not know if he could stand what he was about to do. But it was owed to her, at the very least, and he was aching to spill his secrets to someone who would listen. His history with Thor was too complicated for true objectivity, but Valkyrie had expressed intimate understanding of his hurts, simply by the nature of having felt them, too.

Loki reached out again, this time for her hand. He closed his eyes and lifted her fingers to his temple.

It took a moment, for his seiðr was weak, and he had to focus to draw upon it. All at once, then, he felt the rushing presence of her mind invading his own. Loki allowed himself to bring the memory of Thanos to the surface. It was not hard; Thanos was never lingering very far underneath. Chills brought by fear prickled at his skin, but he pushed on. In fragmented pieces, he showed her Thanos’s promise to collect his debt of both the Tesseract and Loki’s blood. He showed her Thanos gripping strong fingers around his neck and let her hear the whisper of a promise: I always keep my word, Asgardian.

The voice sounded so very real that it was all he could stand. Abruptly, he jerked back, dropping her hand and breathing hard. His eyes flew open in time to see the unmasked dismay on her features and his heart fell - this was a mistake, an incredible mistake, but then she opened her eyes and blinked back at him and her expression melted into sorrow.

“Oh, Loki,” she said, and suddenly her eyes were bright. “I … I had no idea.”

Wordlessly, Loki  reached for his collar and tugged it down, just enough that she could see the shadow of bruises. At the realization of what she was seeing, Valkyrie’s eyes went wide. She started to lift a hand, as if to touch them, but she faltered instead.

“I made a very grave error in aligning myself with Thanos,” Loki admitted. His voice sounded like that of someone for whom hope had become a disease. “It seems I will be paying for it for the rest of my life.”

“No. No, you won’t.” Valkyrie moved then, placing her hands on either side of his face so that he had no choice but to look at her. “I don’t give platitudes, Loki, so hear me now when I say that Thanos will not get you back. We will do whatever it takes, but he will not lay a hand on you again.”

Looking at her bright eyes, flecked with worry and compassion and conviction, Loki knew she was not lying to him. She truly believed that she could prevent Thanos from retrieving Loki, that she and Thor would be the protection Loki needed. But the Titan was more powerful than they three would ever be, and so it was a lie, nonetheless. It was one he appreciated, for it sprang forth with good intentions.

He did not reply. She was still holding his face, and his circled his fingers around her wrists, lingering where he felt her pulse quicken.

Loki had always been the pragmatic sort. He would not linger on this infatuation. He’d vowed earlier in the night to simply let it pass, but he changed his mind. He would kill it swiftly instead, crush it under the heel of his boot like an ant. He released her wrists and slid a palm along her jawline, fingers coming to rest in her smooth hair, and he brought his mouth to hers.

It was a tentative motion. Loki expected her to jerk away from him immediately, and he mentally braced himself. It would be momentarily humiliating, but ultimately successful - he would not think of courting someone who had rejected him so. He would rid himself of his feelings swiftly, in one blow.

Her lips tasted of sweet wine and her fingers gripped the hem of his tunic as she pulled him closer.

It was not the reaction he’d expected. Loki froze, unprepared for such a swift change in plan, but his body responded before his mind caught up and he was already moving his mouth hesitantly over hers. He dared to part her lips, sliding his tongue along hers. She licked into his mouth with a breath that hitched and he felt her fingers skim over the ridges of his spine. Loki’s hands fell to her waist, thumbs resting in the grooves above her hip bones. He was hot and cold all at once, and his head was spinning as he nipped at her lower lip and tasted her mouth again.

Faintly, he heard himself make a noise that sounded almost like a whimper. The sound made Valkyrie press into him, her arms shifting around his shoulders, so close he could feel her heartbeat in his own veins. She felt like wildfire to him. She was a blazing heat that spread through his bones, consumed the spaces between his ribs, and spiraled into his heart. He realized she had been there for quite some time.

It was a wonderful and horrible and overwhelming realization all at once. Loki broke from her to catch his breath. He touched his forehead to hers, letting a few beats pass before he opened his eyes to watch her. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were bright and it was because of _him_. “I have wanted to do that,” she said, “for awhile.”

Of all the things she could have said, Loki expected that the least. It must have shown on his face because she laughed, drawing back a bit. “Did you truly not realize?”

“No,” he said faintly, tracing her lower lip with the pad of his thumb. “I did not.”

“It’s the intelligent ones who usually turn out to be the most oblivious about practical things,” she said ruefully, her eyes fluttering shut at the contact. He laughed a little, a soft sound of genuine amusement.

“It’s not that I am oblivious,” Loki responded, and dipped his head, trailing a line of kisses along her jaw. He felt her sharp intake of breath and pressed his lips to the pulse point below her ear. “I am just not used to getting what I want,” he murmured.

“And … what is it that you want?” she asked, her fingers digging into the skin beneath his ribcage.

“Anything - everything - you’re willing to give.” He nipped at her earlobe and mouthed a light path down her neck which ended at the faint scar just above her collarbone. His lips lingered there for a moment, and then he drew in his breath, hearing the shudder of it as he pulled back to look at her.

Valkyrie opened her eyes and stared back at him. She gave him that tiny smile borne of amusement and affection. “Then,” she said, “take me to your rooms.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. The version of the war between Osiris and Seth is based loosely on comic book canon, but I've simplified it and changed some elements to fit this story. If you're interested in the story Marvel told, I got all of my information [here.](http://marvel.com/universe/Seth#axzz5HZmnEkDA)
> 
> 2\. The remaining chapters will not be this long, I promise. 
> 
> 3\. Feel free to follow me on [tumblr!](http://iamanartichoke.tumblr.com/)I'm kind of weird though. But I do post a ton of Loki.


	28. XXVIII.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki and Val get it on, Loki hands the Tesseract over to Osiris, and they return to Deaphus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right, so, there is _some_ description happening here, but overall, Loki and Val's, um, activities are not too explicit, I think. Mostly kind of handwavey inferences, but I've updated the tags accordingly to reflect this new development and to be on the safe side. So, content warning for that?

 

**XXVIII.**

At some point in the evening, the servants had been in his quarters, for when they got back to his rooms they found the bedcovers turned down and sleep garments laid out. Loki had to admit that Osiris’s palace was, if nothing else, extremely meticulous in their doting on guests. 

Not that he gave that much thought. As soon as the door closed behind him, Valkyrie turned, pushed him back against the wall and captured his mouth again. Loki cupped her face, thumbs resting against the points beneath her ears. His mind flicked to their sparring on Sakaar, how she’d pinned him with one knee and  _ growled _ for him to choose his words wisely. It was the first time that he’d seen something on her face other than a blank kind of cynicism, and he’d forgotten, in everything that happened after, that it had intrigued him a little. 

Valkyrie explored his mouth thoroughly, the kiss sending tremors through his body. His fingers slid into her hair and tightened around the nape of her neck; she let out a small sigh as her hands went to his chest, palms flat against his sternum. She broke from his lips and paused to take a breath. Then, she laughed. 

Loki found himself laughing, too. There was a very strange sort of carelessness about it, as if they had no other worries in the universe besides one another. “I never expected,” he admitted, “that we would end up here.” 

She quirked an eyebrow. “Are you complaining?” 

“Not even a little,” he returned. Their lips were barely apart, brushing lightly as they spoke. Just as Loki began to kiss her again, though, she drew back a bit and then her lips were against his neck, just below his jaw, and Loki felt a flutter go through him. He tilted his head, closing his eyes as she began to leave light kisses against his skin, traveling up toward his ear. 

“So …” She drew the word out, nipped at his earlobe. “Are you admitting that you like me?” 

Loki drew in a sharp, quick breath when she continued, just barely grazing his earlobe with her teeth, her tongue, and then moving down to the pulse point, pressing in with her lips. “I wouldn’t go  _ that _ far,” he said, but his heart was thudding in his chest and reflected in his voice and Valkyrie laughed again. 

“You,” she said, drawing back and pressing her forehead to his, “are the most stubborn man I’ve ever met.” Before he could respond, she parted his lips easily, swallowing down whatever reply he could have given her. Words fell from his mind, forgotten, and he became aware only of his pulse and hers, beating erratically in opposite rhythms. Desire began at the base of his spine and spread slowly through him like a flame crawling up the wick of a candle. Loki licked into the hollows of her mouth, bracing one hand against the wall behind him as he pushed them away from it so he could walk her, backwards, toward the bed. They fell on top of the bedcovers, a laugh escaping through Valkyrie’s lips that turned into a soft moan when he palmed her breast through the thin silk of her dress, thumb grazing the hardening nipple. 

Abruptly, Valkyrie pushed him back. She flipped them over effortlessly, crawled on top of him and settled her legs on either side of his thighs. He could feel his arousal growing, gathering warm in the pit of his stomach. He couldn’t help a small groan, from somewhere in his throat, when she moved against him in a slight, teasing motion. 

They paused for air. Loki’s heart thrummed in his ears as he watched her sit up, her fingers trailing lightly over the soft material of his tunic before they came to rest on his stomach. His lips felt swollen, tingly, and her cheeks were flushed, loose curls framing her face. He faintly felt something twist inside of him, something like nerves, because if they did this, it wouldn’t be just sex. His emotions were already tangled up in it, had gotten that way while he wasn’t paying attention. Careless, truly, but there was nothing to be done about it now.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” she murmured. She slipped her hands beneath his tunic, pressing grooves into the skin against his ribs. 

“I’m thinking …” Loki rested his hands on her thighs, “about albatrosses.” 

Her brows drew together and she let out a laugh of genuine confusion. “What?” 

“Albatrosses.” Loki slid his palms up to her waist, finding the place beneath the folds of her dress where the skirt and blouse separated into two pieces. His fingers dipped beneath the material and he found the warm skin there. “They are a bird-type of creature found on Midgard. Or maybe they are duck-like. I don’t quite remember.” 

She rolled her eyes. “I shouldn’t have asked.” 

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. He placed one hand around her neck, drawing her closer and parting her lips. He kissed her with a sudden urgency that swelled up inside of him, wanting to taste the sweet wine that still lingered on her tongue and breathe in her scent, earthy like sandalwood and amber. She responded with an equal fervency, pressing him further into the mattress, tugging at his tunic until he shifted and raised himself up enough to allow her to pull it off. 

There was a poem Loki had once come across once in his studies, a Midgardian poem about a sea captain who killed an albatross that was following his ship. Superstition dictated that to have an albatross follow one’s ship was a sign of good luck, and by killing it, the sea captain had cursed them all. Later, after bad luck had indeed befallen them, the sea captain’s crew hung the dead albatross from the captain’s neck to show that he was to blame. Thus, the albatross came to represent the weight one must carry in recompense of their bad deeds. 

He thought of it now - the albatross draped around his own neck, the bad deeds he’d done, the many, many mistakes that followed his every movement. This one, perhaps, would become one of them. His love was dangerous - it was poisonous. He’d never loved anyone besides his mother and Thor and it had brought both of them nothing but heartache and betrayal and death. 

Loki did not want to drag Valkyrie down with him. Yet as they explored one another, every motion felt as natural as if they’d done this a thousand times. Their garments were tossed aside with ease, their hands tracing patterns they followed with their mouths. Loki wanted to taste every inch of her, and she him, and only once they had fulfilled this need, both slick with sweat and breathing raggedly, did Valkyrie tug him on top of her, placing her palms on either side of his face. 

“Now,” she commanded simply, and Loki needed no further prodding. He pushed inside of her, slowly at first, covering her mouth with his own to swallow her soft cry. The world had long since fallen away, leaving nothing but her. They’d uncovered something in each other, a brief light between them illuminating the dark spaces in the cracks of their equally broken hearts. He could fall in love with her, he thought as they moved together, watching one another, and he had the brief presence of mind to acknowledge that - like so many other errors he’d made - once he realized what he was doing, it was already too late to stop it. 

Afterward, they didn’t say much. Loki pulled her close and she relaxed into him, and soon he felt the steady rise and fall of her even breathing. When the sky outside began to flicker with the light hues of morning, Loki carefully slipped from her arms, put on a robe the servants had also left out, and went into the bathroom. He found himself, once again, in front of the mirror. He thought that there should be some change in him - something to mark him as  _ altered _ , in the wake of all he’d discovered the previous night. After he’d fallen, his change was very visible. It was in his eyes, in the set of his chin, in the way he carried himself and the way he spoke. Loki wished to see some of that hardship erased, as if realizing what he and Thor would never be and what he and Valkyrie had the potential to be should ease some of the darkness from within him and leave him with the tiniest bit of sun. 

The change, however, was not there. Loki pressed his fingertips to the bruises around his neck, a bit lighter today than they had been yesterday but still very visible. He looked a little more tired, since he had foregone sleep for fear of falling, once again, into the Titan’s grasp. Loki realized, with some disappointment, that he was exactly the same. 

* * *

Osiris had arranged to meet Loki in the throne room for their private negotiations that morning. Loki slipped out of his quarters quietly. It was still so early that he figured he would be back before Valkyrie awoke. He remembered the way to the throne room without aid of the servants, and when he got there, Osiris stepped down from his throne and put a hand on Loki’s shoulder.

“I trust you slept well?” he asked pleasantly. 

Loki’s smile was automatic. “Yes, thank you. My quarters are most comfortable.” 

“Good, very good. Come with me, my prince.” Osiris led him into the king’s council chambers, which loomed very large and impressive around them even though it was empty save for the stationed guards. Loki followed Osiris toward the rear of the chambers and they paused in front of a section of the wall that seemed a bit off-kilter. Osiris drew his hand through the air in a circular motion, the wall lighting up briefly in gold in response; it began to slide back, revealing a secret entrance. 

Loki’s lips quirked. “An interesting way to hide your treasures,” he remarked. 

Osiris smiled. “The most efficient way to hide that which is valuable is to keep it in plain sight. This is not our only vault, but it is the most secure. I believe the Tesseract will be safest here.” 

Beyond the wall, the corridor revealed was dark. It was a sharp contrast to all the bright white and gold throughout the rest of the palace. Osiris led Loki down a tunnel, the end of which stopped abruptly. Osiris’s magic revealed yet another secret entrance which led them into a surprisingly small room, lit by torches. It could not even be compared to the grand size of Odin’s Vault and yet, looking around, Loki immediately understood that these were the Ennead’s most valued treasures. Loki took everything in slowly: he saw an enchanted glass capsule humming with a dozen honey bees; a thick grimoire with gold-edged pages that positively  _ radiated _ magic and power, making Loki’s pulse quicken; a shimmering golden tapestry entangled in a rather ordinary-looking loom; a long, obelisk-shaped object that gave off a slight orange glow. Loki’s gaze fell, at last, upon a long, solid gold scepter with a forked bottom and, at the top, a vicious serpent’s head with ruby red eyes. 

“That,” Osiris said, following Loki’s gaze, “was Seth’s.” 

Loki flinched a bit. Even with his limited  seiðr , he could feel the dark magic that was embedded in the scepter. Unlike Loki’s, it was not fueled by an Infinity stone, but that did not mean it wasn’t incredibly powerful. Loki felt a strange tightness in his throat as he stared at it. It was one thing to hear Osiris’s story secondhand, to only imagine the terrible things that had happened. Here was something tangible that had  _ belonged _ to Seth. It made Loki feel as if Seth was in the room with them, gazing down at Loki in scorn. Seth was what Loki could have become, and Loki felt Seth’s contempt for the fact that Loki had not. 

He realized he’d been staring at the scepter wordlessly and shook himself a bit, clearing his throat. “I’m sorry,” he apologized to Osiris, who was watching him with an unreadable expression. “It is a very powerful relic.” 

“That it is,” Osiris agreed. “I should not keep it, for the dark magic that fuels it has the potential to corrupt even the purest mind. But, perhaps, I have become sentimental in my old age. It is all I have that belonged to my brother and I cannot bring myself to destroy it.” 

Loki looked at him then, the words unexpected. “Forgive me,” he said, hesitantly, “but … you did not love Seth. Why does sentiment matter?” 

It was an incredibly bold question and Loki expected to be reprimanded for it. But Osiris looked past him, at the scepter, and shook his head. “I do not know, child. Perhaps my heart mourns not for Seth as he was but for what could have been.” 

What could have been, indeed. Loki realized that it went both ways - if he thought that he and Thor could have ended up like Osiris and Seth, then it stood to reason that Osiris had once hoped the opposite was true as well - that they could have a relationship as brothers, built on friendship and love. Loki and Thor did not have that yet, but they did once. They could again. 

“I see,” Loki finally said. He swallowed hard and forced himself to focus on the reason he was here. “This does seem the best place for the Tesseract.” 

Osiris, too, seemed to need to pull himself back into the present. “Yes. These precious artifacts are guarded with a strong protection spell put in place by Isis. This vault has never been compromised and I believe your space stone will be safe.”

That was what Loki wanted - for the Tesseract to be kept safely away from both himself and from the Titan. Osiris’s vault would be a sufficient challenge, if not a complete deterrent. May the Titan never lay his wretched hands on the cube, Loki thought as he extended an arm, palm up, and called it from his interdimensional pocket. It materialized smoothly into being, bathing the room in its shining blue glow. “Then I entrust you, mighty Osiris, with keeping the stone safe from all who would seek to wield it in harm.” 

Osiris’s features were shadowed by the pale light of the cube. He seemed to hesitate just for a moment, so swiftly Loki could have imagined it, for a second later he was as confident as ever. “I shall do so dutifully,” he responded, “and with this task, may my debt to Odin be repaid.” 

“Indeed,” Loki murmured. He exhaled and, in a motion that felt more anticlimactic than he might have thought, gave the Tesseract to Osiris. Osiris held the cube in both hands and brought it close to his face, whispering an incantation that Loki could not hear. Abruptly, the Tesseract vanished from sight, either shrouded in illusion or sent to another pocket dimension. 

Either way, it was now beyond Loki’s grasp. He was finally rid of it. 

Both gods were quiet for a moment, and then Osiris turned to Loki. “My dear prince,” he said, “it has been a delight to have you with us on Heliopolis. Might I extend an invitation for you and Brunnhilde to stay a few more days?” 

Loki bowed his head just slightly. “I thank you kindly, but we must be getting back to our people. My brother awaits our swift return. But your offer is most graciously appreciated.” 

“Very well.” Osiris reached out and pressed his palm to Loki’s shoulder, gripping tightly once before releasing him again. 

A beat passed as Osiris turned toward the tunnel again to lead them out. Loki cleared his throat. “I wonder if I might impose on your kindness once more,” he said, and Osiris turned back to him with a lifted brow. Loki clasped his hands behind his back, glancing around the room. “With compensation, of course.” 

Osiris let a tiny smile tug at his lips. “Speak, Prince Loki,” he responded, “and I will listen to what you propose.” 

* * *

It was not for nothing that Loki was called Silvertongue. When Loki and Osiris finally left the treasure vault, there was one additional relic in Osiris’s collection and Loki had secured use of the golden bridge for the Asgardian refugees. Once they left Deaphus they would travel back to Heliopolis and Osiris himself would aid them in crossing the bridge to send them to Earth. Their long, trudging journey was coming to an end.

Thor would be pleased, Loki thought as he returned to his quarters. Maybe even proud of Loki, though Loki did not linger long on that hope. Wishing for something was almost always the surest way to guarantee that he would not get it. 

Loki let himself back into his rooms and was surprised to find Valkyrie gone. He closed the door and leaned against it for a moment, surveying the room. The bedcovers were still rumpled as if she’d left quickly, but there was no other sign that she’d been there at all. He closed his eyes and drew in a breath, wondering if it had all been some elaborate trick his own mind was playing on him. It was not beyond reason to assume, although the more likely scenario was that she had awoken to realize and regret her mistake and fled before he could return. The thought pierced his heart like a broken rib. 

Just as well, he told himself, pushing the hurt of it away. He had not expected otherwise, after all. Loki pushed away from the door and dropped down on the bed, slinging one arm over his eyes to block out the rest of the room. He listened to his own breathing, which sounded impossibly loud to his ears. The steadiness of it was reassuring, but it was also lulling him into a drowsiness that he tried to stave off. Loki did not want to sleep. Somehow, the Titan had penetrated his dreams, broken through the veil that kept him safe and dragged him back to the Sanctuary to taunt him. Loki still did not know how the Titan had managed to do it, but he could not risk it by carelessly falling asleep now, no matter how tired he was. 

Fortunately, there was a knock on his door. “Come in,” he called, expecting one or several of the servants who always seemed to be hovering somewhere nearby. The door opened and closed, but when no sound followed, Loki lowered his arm and frowned. There, he saw Valkyrie hesitating. Loki sat up abruptly. She had changed into her normal clothes, her hair loose around her shoulders, and was carrying her travel pack, which she tossed to the floor. “Hi,” she said simply. 

“Hi,” Loki replied cautiously. 

It was incredibly awkward. 

Neither seemed to know what to say. Valkyrie folded her arms and Loki pressed his thumbnail into his palm and they looked at one another across the room. He could feel dread pooling in the pit of his stomach, for this was surely when she would tell him what a mistake she’d made. Well, he would not need to listen to it. He would tell her it was a mistake first and come out with his dignity still intact, if a little worse for the wear. “About last night -” he began. 

Unfortunately, she began to speak at the same time. “We should talk -” she started. Both of them stopped, another awkward silence passed, and then Valkyrie laughed. “Norns, look at us,” she said, dropping her arms and coming over to sit beside him on the bed. “Like a couple of fumbling adolescents the morning after.” 

Loki gave a sound of acknowledgement. The polite thing to do would be allow her to speak her piece first, but Loki did not think he could bear it.“I was just going to say … nothing has to change, between you and I. Last night, we gave into an impulse, but things needn’t be awkward now.”

“A little awkwardness never hurt anyone,” Valkyrie replied with a shrug. “But if that’s what you want … no, certainly nothing needs to change.” 

“Isn’t it what you want?” 

Valkyrie rolled her eyes. “I’ve already told you what I want, remember?” 

Loki’s brow furrowed. She’d said she’d wanted  _ this _ for some time, but he’d assumed _ this  _ was their kiss. His confusion showed on his features, for Valkyrie looked over at him and let out a huff of impatience. She angled herself toward him on the bed. “Did you think I meant only to lie with you, and nothing further?” 

“Well …” Loki hesitated. All of his prowess of speech seemed to have been left behind in Osiris’s vault. “Well, yes.” 

She sighed, loudly, dropping her forehead to his shoulder for just a moment before she looked up again. “I thought you said you weren’t as oblivious as all that.” She grasped his collar with both hands and pulled him toward her, so suddenly that he was taken by surprise, but then she was kissing him and surprise gave way to something warmer. Loki felt his shoulders sag with a relief he did not expect to feel, and when they broke apart, she said quietly, “I don’t want to just go back to the way things were. I  _ care _ about you, Loki. If you tell me that you truly wish nothing to change, that you don’t want me, I will respect it and never mention it again. But if that’s not what you want … well, you have to tell me that, too.” 

Loki closed his eyes. Nerves skittered down his spine. He meant to tell her that that was exactly what he wanted: for nothing to change, for them to go back to being something that existed on the periphery of friendship. He would not have to get too close to her, nor her to him. He would spare her the pain that went in tandem with loving him, and spare himself one additional fissure in his heart when she inevitably realized, as everyone else did, how worthless he truly was. 

No sound came out when he opened his mouth. Loki opened his eyes and exhaled, a sound of defeat even to his own ears. “I did say I would not lie to you,” he responded in a low voice. “I don’t want to go back, either.” 

Valkyrie’s smile was tentative, yet somehow more brilliant than if she’d beamed. “Then we will not.” She let go of his collar and took his face in one hand, her thumb brushing against his cheekbone. “It’s that simple.” 

Loki did not truly think it was. But he did not argue. Instead, he caught her lips with his own, a sudden fervency overtaking him even as anxiety had his heart in his throat.  _ You are making a mistake,  _ a voice inside of his head whispered and for once, he knew without a doubt that it was his own. 

* * *

They departed Heliopolis late in the morning, just as the sun was settling in high overhead to shine down on another bright, hot day. Before they left, Loki and Valkyrie bade Osiris and Isis their gratitude and farewell, with Loki promising their return with the rest of their people before the month was out. 

In all, the mission had been a success. They were fortunate not to have run into any trouble and, as long as Loki stayed awake, he would not encounter the Titan. It was easier to avoid sleep on the return journey, for once the  _ Commodore _ had broken through Heliopolis’s atmosphere and their course had been set for Deaphus, Loki and Valkyrie occupied themselves with one another, soaking up the last of their time alone before they were meant to rejoin Thor, Heimdall, and the rest. 

The journey back felt much too short.  

Valkyrie maneuvered the  _ Commodore _ into its place atop their refugee ship, and once the engine had died down and the world around them settled, Valkyrie sat back in her seat. “So … are you going to tell Thor? About this?” She gestured vaguely between them. 

“Not if you don’t want me to.” Truthfully, Thor’s reaction had not occurred to Loki and, even if it had, he was not inclined to tell Thor much anyway. They’d never been the kind of brothers who traded stories about lovers and compared notes and waxed poetic about passion and desire. Thor would often regale Loki with his tales of this maiden or that, but Loki never reciprocated and, eventually, Thor stopped trying. They bonded in many ways, but that was simply not one of them. Loki did not wish it to be so. When he had a lover, Loki wanted to keep him or her all to himself, as if to speak about it or share it with anyone else - even Thor - was to lose whatever tenuous hold he’d managed to grasp.

“I don’t mind if you do,” Valkyrie responded. “I don’t wish to hide it.” 

Loki rested his head against the back of his seat, face turned toward her. “You’re welcome to tell him, then,” he replied, even as something twisted in his stomach at the thought. Loki remembered how long he’d assumed Thor and Valkyrie were sleeping together, how he’d automatically assumed that Valkyrie would be taken with Thor’s good looks and charm and irritating perfection without ever giving Loki a second glance. Maybe that was why he’d antagonized her so, why he resisted her friendship even when she continued to offer it to him. Loki never bothered competing with Thor for lovers, for it was a competition he was always bound to lose. 

He could not help acknowledging that Valkyrie had only chosen Loki because she and Thor, for whatever reasons, did not take to each other that way. 

Valkyrie was gazing at him, her brow slightly furrowed. “You’re getting lost in your head again,” she said, reaching out and tapping her fingers lightly against his temple. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing.” He shook his head and forced a smile. “Just thoughts. Why don’t we simply see what happens? For what it’s worth, I don’t think Thor will be particularly surprised.” 

“Neither do I,” she admitted, and bit her lip even as she smiled. “Thor’s more perceptive than he gets credit for.” 

“Maybe if he stopped punching through things, more people would take him seriously.” Loki pushed himself up and held a hand out to her, which she grasped easily, hopping to her feet behind him. 

Valkyrie grinned. “Maybe so, but that’s asking him not to be who he is. Thor will never not be a warrior, no matter how long he sits on that throne.” She slid her fingers through his as they departed from the ship and began walking toward the stronghold. Their banter came easily; they paused every so often to kiss one another, neither letting go of the other’s hand. So wrapped up in each other they were that, as they drew nearer to the stronghold, neither noticed right away that just outside of the gates sat the green beast. He was chewing on a large mango as if he did not have a care in the world. 

Loki stopped short and Valkyrie stumbled a little, caught off guard. Loki heard her suck in her breath in surprise as they both looked up at the Hulk, who gazed back at them dispassionately. Loki felt uneasiness skitter through his body. He was not afraid of the Hulk, exactly, but nor did he particularly want to talk to him or otherwise engage him in any way that might result in being smashed into the ground. 

“Well,” Valkyrie said, “I guess Bruce couldn’t hold out anymore.” 

“Angry Girl,” Hulk exclaimed as his eyes focused in on them. He tossed his mango aside with enough force to send it flying several feet and hopped up. The ground shook beneath them and Loki took a few steps back, uneasy. Valkyrie, however, laughed. 

“Hey, Big Guy,” she returned, trotting in close. She swung a fist at him, ducking when Hulk swung back. Hulk let out a sound that was somewhere between a roar and a laugh, and Loki took the opportunity to slip around them, through the stronghold entrance and quickly into the officers’ house. He found Thor and Heimdall in the living room. Both looked up when Loki entered. 

“I see our friend is back,” Loki said wryly. 

Thor broke out in a wide smile, hopping up from the sofa. “Brother!” He crossed the room and, before Loki could react, pulled Loki into a hug. 

Since Asgard’s destruction - since their newly formed alliance - Thor had tried to hug him only twice. Once had been that first night on the ship, when Loki caught the bottle stopper and Thor realized his brother was with him, in the flesh. The second time was when Thor had returned Loki from the infirmary and Loki agreed to stay behind and recuperate while Thor and the others went to question the Kree prisoner. Both times, Loki had held himself tense in Thor’s arms, his own hands dangling by his sides. Hugging Thor was not something Loki was even remotely used to - hugging  _ anyone _ , for that matter - and the safest response was no response. 

The same instinct fell over him then, as Thor pulled him close. Loki’s shoulders stiffened and he clenched his fingers, not knowing what to do except wait for it to pass. Despite himself, however, he leaned in a little bit. Thor smelled of leather and metal, Mjolnir lingering in his skin even months after the weapon had been destroyed. Such a familiar smell, and suddenly it made Loki’s heart squeeze in his chest. 

Tentatively, Loki lifted an arm and placed it around Thor’s wide back. The familiarity of holding Thor this close, even after so many years of not having done so, threatened to overwhelm him. He smelled of warm electricity and damp soil; he smelled of sweet rain and solid wood and something else uniquely  _ Thor _ \- clean and fragrant, like the soapy oils they’d used when they were still young enough to bathe together. Thor smelled of home, Loki realized. He was everything that was Asgard, everything intangible and unnamed aside from an innate sense of belonging. 

_ Brother mine,  _ Loki thought, _ mine _ , and he could not stop himself from pulling Thor in. He wrapped both of his arms around Thor, closing his eyes and breathing deep. He clutched at Thor as he had not done in years and years and Thor held him just as tightly, as if he never intended to let go. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on [tumblr](http://iamanartichoke.tumblr.com/) if you wish, I like MCU friends :) I'm feeling a bit unsure about this chapter bc sexy time is out of my comfort zone (as is romance in general, actually) so leave me some comments and validate me, if you want. (Or don't, that's okay, too.) :P


	29. XXIX.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Asgardians prepare to leave Deaphus and Thor and Loki have a chat.

 

**XXIX.**

“Hypothermia,” Saija said later, when she and the rest of Thor’s council were gathered in the living room. Dagny, who had come running when she realized that Valkyrie had returned, was also there, occupying herself with a book as she sat at Valkyrie’s feet. “I believe so, anyway. It’s a condition unique to humans, and it occurs when one’s body temperature gets too low.” She glanced at Thor solemnly. “It can be fatal if not treated.” 

Loki remembered how cold Bruce seemed all the time, and how he’d mentioned that Deaphus’s star - a red dwarf, he’d called it - did not give off enough heat. Human biology was strange, indeed. “So are you saying he transformed because his human body couldn’t take the environment anymore?” 

“I believe so, yes,” Saija responded. “Your friend’s physiology is very interesting, actually. You’ve said that his transformation is usually triggered by extreme emotions, yes?” 

“That’s right,” Thor, who was rubbing his temples, said. “Anger, mainly.” 

“Well, this time, he transformed without that trigger. It’s as if his body made the decision _ for  _ him, out of self-preservation. That the beast has the ability to act without the influence of Bruce’s thoughts or emotions is … well, as I said, very interesting.” 

“Or very inconvenient,” Thor countered with a sigh. He dropped his hands. “If Hulk just decides he wants to come out and Bruce has no control, then I’d wager that’s a very bad development.” 

“It does explain why he’s so calm, though,” Loki pointed out. Hulk remained outside, but he was not roaring or crashing about, destroying everything in his path. As far as Loki could tell, after sparring a bit with Valkyrie, Hulk had simply gone back to sitting just beyond the stronghold gates without bothering anything. “Perhaps Bruce has  _ some _ control, if he transforms without an emotional trigger.” 

“Well, when he gets back, we’ll have to ask him,” Thor replied. He leaned forward a bit, elbows resting on his knees. “In the meantime, we’ll have to quarter him in the ship until we leave. How long do you think that might be, Saija?” 

“That’s the good news,” Saija answered, smoothing her hands over her lap. “I believe that we’ve figured out a successful remedy for the hospital patients. The first two or three medications we tried did ease their suffering, but did not rid them of the sickness completely. Then Gerta had the idea to add mayweed, which is a potent herb for medicinal uses.” 

“Fortunately, it is grown in the forests here,” Heimdall added, “so we were able to collect a fair amount.” 

“It seemed to do the trick,” Saija said. “One of the patients we gave the new medicine to last night woke up without any symptoms this morning.” 

For the first time, something like relief crossed Thor’s features. “That’s wonderful,” he said. “Do you suppose you’ll have enough to cure all of the sick?” 

Saija nodded. “Yes. It will take a couple of days, but we have enough ingredients for those who are currently sick, as well as a surplus for future use, which we will leave with Deaphus’s healers.” 

“Sounds like we only have a couple more days here, then,” Valkyrie said. “Speaking of which - Loki, you said Osiris was willing to let us cross his bridge, right?” 

“Yes, that’s right.” Loki cleared his throat. “He was most kind in negotiating. With use of the golden bridge, we will be able to get to Earth as easily as if we were using the Bifrost.” 

The relief on Thor’s face increased. “Thank the Norns. I’d hoped the bridge was an option, but I worried Osiris would not be accommodating to two thousand of us. How did you convince him, Loki?” 

Loki shrugged. “I talked him into it, of course. How many times must I tell you that being swift of tongue is just as useful as being skilled with a sword?” 

“Always once more, it seems.” Thor smiled a bit and then clasped his fingers together. “Thank you, brother, truly. We should begin preparations so that we are ready to leave once the hospital is equipped with your cure, Saija.” 

“I agree,” said Heimdall. 

“Then I should return to the hospital,” Saija said. She rose to her feet, giving Thor a nod. “I will take my leave if your Majesty permits.” 

“Yes, of course.” Thor’s smile for her was warm. Once Saija was gone, the tasks to be done were divided up among the rest of them. Thor and Heimdall would go to the palace to meet with Briony and her council to fill her in on their new plans, while Loki and Valkyrie would begin moving Hulk and anyone else who wished to get a head start on returning to the ship. It made for a busy afternoon, though Loki was not thrilled at having to spend any length of time in the Hulk’s presence. Getting smashed to a pulp should have been the least of Loki’s worries, but as far as pain went, it was definitely at the top of the list of what Loki had experienced and, thus, he was not eager to risk a repeat performance. 

It was this unease that prompted him to tell Valkyrie, “Someone should gather Bruce’s belongings. When he returns, he’ll likely want his research. I can do that while you take Hulk to the ship, if you’d like.” 

He’d framed it as if he was doing her a favor, and Valkyrie rolled her eyes, seeing right through him. “Since when are you so altruistic toward Bruce?” 

Loki tilted his head at her. “I happen to like Bruce.” 

She snorted. 

“I find him tolerable,”  Loki amended. “Sometimes. But his alter ego makes me nervous, though he seems to like  _ you _ very much.” 

“His alter ego is like a very large, green puppy - if you know how to handle him,” Valkyrie replied. She was smiling, apparently very amused by the whole exchange. “All right. I’ll take him to the ship and you can collect Bruce’s research.” 

They were standing just outside the officers’ house, and Dagny had parted from them so that she could go play with some of the other children. Valkyrie glanced around to make sure she had not come back, anyway, before leaning in and pressing her mouth firmly to Loki’s. “But you owe me,” she murmured against his lips. 

“I think I could quite like being in debt to you,” Loki responded, threading his fingers through her hair. 

“You have no idea.” She kissed him once more and then drew back, giving him a tiny shove. “Go on before I start collecting interest.” 

Loki grinned at her, a brief but wonderful lightness of heart pulsing through him. “As you say, dear Valkyrie.” 

* * *

Bruce had left many of his notes scattered about the coffee table in the living room, but some of them were tucked between pages of books he was examining and still others were in his room, which Loki only discovered after casting a simple locator spell to ensure he did not miss anything. Bruce had gathered quite a lot of information, Loki noted as he organized the papers into some semblance of order. He skimmed through them as he did so; many of Bruce’s observations and equations were very accurate and advanced beyond what most humans could comprehend.

Under different circumstances, Loki might like to discuss Bruce’s findings with him, he thought. But though he and Bruce might tolerate one another, they would never be friends. New York hung too heavily over them, and they did not like one another enough to make the effort to overcome it. A shame, really, but so were many things. 

When he’d finished gathering Bruce’s papers together, Loki sent them to his interdimensional pocket, where they would keep until Bruce returned. None of them knew how long that might be this time. 

The hours passed. When Valkyrie returned from the ship, she and Loki set about going through the barracks, updating their people on their new timeline and offering to escort anyone who chose to go back to the ship. Many of them seemed more eager to leave than Loki might have thought, but he supposed they were all anxious to settle down for good. 

Loki and Valkyrie worked well together. Late in the afternoon, they caught a few minutes alone outside of one of the barracks where the people inside were packing up, and Loki felt all too eager to pull her, laughing, to him so he could capture her mouth. Neither was aware of anyone else until they both heard Thor clear his throat. 

Loki broke from her and turned, finding Thor and  Heimdall standing not too far away. The barrack was not far from the stronghold entrance and neither Loki nor Valkyrie had noticed their return. Loki felt his face warm, even as he glared at his brother, but Valkyrie just grinned as Thor drew closer. 

“So … is this a thing now?” he asked, a tiny smirk crossing his lips as he gestured between Loki and Valkyrie. 

“It’s none of your concern,” Loki retorted, letting go of Valkyrie completely. 

Thor lifted his hands. “Hey, just asking. Sorry to ruin the moment.” 

“You’re not sorry in the least,” Valkyrie replied with a toss of her hair. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be, your Majesty?” 

“No. Not at all.” Thor’s eyes went wide, innocent; he was adopting the kind of teasing that Loki had not seen in him since their youth, and it irritated him, but not as much as it could have. Thor sidled in between them, which was not easy considering how he towered over both of them, but he made it look effortless. He slung an arm around each of their shoulders. “Nowhere at all to be except right here with my two favorite people.” 

Valkyrie rolled her eyes, leaning around Thor to look at Loki. “How many people do you need to overthrow a king?” 

“Just one, if he does it right,” Loki responded darkly. 

“Hey now. Treason is no laughing matter.” Thor grinned again. “Come on. Looks like we’ve got time for one more walk to the ship before  _ náttmál. _ ” Without dropping his arms, he prodded both Loki and Valkyrie into motion. 

By the end of the day, about a third of their people had packed up and returned to the ship. Despite Thor’s teasing, he did not ask them any details about their new relationship; in fact, as the day turned into evening and they were wrapping up  _ náttmál _ , Thor seemed to grow more quiet and distracted. He retired to their room directly after the meal, which was unusual, and Loki waited about twenty minutes before he, too, excused himself. 

He found Thor sitting on his bed. Just sitting. He was cross-legged, knees folded, like the way children sat when they gathered around for stories or theatre, and he was idly twisting a bit of the blankets around in his fingers. Either he was so lost in thought that he did not notice Loki, or Loki was simply better than he realized at sneaking up on Thor, because it wasn’t until Loki was fully in the room and had quietly shut the door behind him that Thor jolted a little and then looked up. 

“Oh,” he said, his eye flicking over Loki as a faint smile crossed his face. “Hey.” 

“Hey,” Loki echoed. He leaned against the door, studying his brother. For a moment he saw Thor not as he was now, but as he had been once: young, arrogant, with an easy grin and a mop of blonde hair, showing off and reveling in cheers just before his would-be coronation. It had only been eight years since then, eight swift, insignificant years, and yet Thor had changed so much that the foolish, cruel boy was completely gone, replaced by a true king. Thor’s heart had always been honorable, but time and wisdom had chased away the cloudy parts. 

It was so, so easy to envy Thor. Loki had centuries of practice. Deep down, Loki knew he envied Thor still. Perhaps he always would. But for the moment, as Loki looked at him, he felt a gratitude that was stronger than envy or inferiority - gratitude that someone so good could love him, could still be willing to forgive him for all that he’d done. So many chances, Thor had given Loki, and Loki had refused to see them. He saw them now. 

Loki crossed the room to join Thor on his bed. He sat down opposite Thor, drawing his legs up and mirroring his brother’s pose (for if the King of Asgard could childishly perch about, so could Loki). For a few moments, the brothers simply looked at one another, each taking the other in. 

“Your good mood faded rather quickly,” Loki finally said. 

“I suppose so.” Thor smiled a little. “So … you and Val.” 

“Her name’s not Val,” Loki replied archly, refusing to give Thor the satisfaction of seeing him embarrassed. 

“I know. So … you and  _ Brunnhilde _ .” 

Loki lifted an eyebrow. Of course Thor would know her real name and never indicate so. It could have bothered Loki, but it didn’t. “Yes,” was all he said. “Me and Brunnhilde.” 

“I told you she preferred you.” The words were smug, but Thor’s tone was not. He twisted the blankets in his fingers again, dropping his gaze. 

“Are you upset?” Loki asked.

“No. Not about that.” Thor gave Loki a genuine smile then. “I’m glad for you, brother. You deserve to be happy, truly.” 

Happy. How strange the word was, so small for such an impossible feeling. Loki didn’t know what happiness was, could not have described it to save his life. He swallowed and looked down at his own hands, fingers resting on his ankles. “I’m not,” he admitted quietly. “Happy, that is.” 

Thor exhaled. He reached out, laying one hand over Loki’s. “Have you ever been?” 

“I don’t know.” Loki let out a sigh of his own. He looked up, taking in the way Thor’s forehead creased, how his blue eye darkened with concern. “If I have, I can’t remember it. I’m … content, sometimes, and I think that’s all I can ask for.” 

“You deserve more than that,” Thor replied. “It’s a very long life we have ahead of us, Loki. Do you ever think of that? It’s what I’ve been thinking all day. The time we still must live far outweighs what we have lived already, and everything around us is so … temporary.” 

Loki tilted his head. Thor’s hand was still on his own and, before he could talk himself out of it, Loki turned his palm over so that he could lace their fingers together. It was not particularly intimate, as far as touches went, but it was reminiscent of gestures they’d used to have as boys, how often they’d go out of their way to put their arms around one another or grasp hands or lay opposite one another with their legs entwined. Being physical with Thor used to be as natural as breathing; it was like they had each always been aware of the space the other took up and they needed to share that space to remind themselves that they had one another, as brothers should. That, too, had all fallen away. 

Thor lifted an eyebrow a bit at Loki’s motion, but he did not pull his hand away. His fingers were warm and solid; Loki turned his palm just so, and his wrist lined up with Thor’s. He could feel Thor’s pulse beating against Loki’s own, the solid thump of it reassuring: Thor was here. Loki had not lost him. 

“What do you mean, temporary?” Loki asked. 

Thor blinked and shook his head. “Everything that has happened has happened so quickly,” he said. “It feels like I’ve not had a moment to stop and breathe in years. Since … since my banishment, my world expanded and yet in doing so, it narrowed significantly and I did not realize it.” 

It was unlike Thor to speak in circles. Loki furrowed his brow. “I don’t follow,” he admitted. 

“Midgard,” Thor clarified. “Jane, and Stark, and the Avengers … I wrapped myself up in their realm, Loki, to the detriment of my own. I convinced myself I loved Midgard and its people - and I do, really - but I let myself forget how short their lives are, how small their world really is. Asgard is  _ gone _ .” 

Thor paused, and Loki felt his hand tremble just a bit. “Asgard is gone, and we are going to Midgard because I have friends there, but I will not always. In a hundred years, the Avengers will be gone. Any government which lets us stay will be gone. The world will be entirely different. You and I and our people will endure for centuries upon centuries, and Midgard will constantly be shifting. Changing. We may not always be welcome. We may not always be unwelcome. Either way, it will never be our home. Not like Asgard was.” 

Loki sat back a bit, regarding Thor with slightly narrowed eyes. On the one hand, it was frustrating that it had taken Thor so long to realize what Loki had always known: that Midgard would never be as significant as Asgard, that getting tangled up in the humans’ lives would only hurt in the long run for the simple fact of their miniscule life spans. 

Loki remembered telling Thor once to say goodbye to Jane.  _ This day, the next, a hundred years, it’s nothing. It’s a heartbeat. You’ll never be ready.  _ His own words echoed back at him; then, Thor had not wanted to listen but now it seemed he had realized the gravity of this truth and he did not quite know what to do with it. And that led Loki to the other hand, which was to feel relief that Thor, as king, was not blind to their realities, that he was willing to confront the things that made him uncomfortable and were painful because to not do so would bode ill for his own people. 

“Are you suggesting we not go to Midgard, then?” Loki asked carefully. 

Thor shook his head. “No. Right now, at this moment in time, Midgard is our best option. I am suggesting, however …” he hesitated, chewing on his lip, “that we might not  _ stay _ on Midgard. Surely there are undiscovered planets, empty realms, even other dimensions. It may take years, but Asgard should have a place all its own. A permanent, lasting place where we are not vulnerable to the whims of temporary governments.” 

“I think,” Loki said, “that that’s the best idea I’ve ever known you to have.” He squeezed Thor’s fingers with his own and finally let go. “Do you know, Heliopolis established itself elsewhere after they gave their kingdom on Earth to the humans? Their new world is magnificent. We could have that, too.” 

“I agree.” Thor smiled then, for a moment reminiscent of his younger self. But the smile quickly faded. “You know, you said you would leave us at Heliopolis,” he reminded Loki. “That you would not continue to Earth with the rest of us.” 

“I did,” Loki agreed. 

“Is that still your decision, then?” 

Loki pressed his lips together. It seemed like so long ago that he’d approached Thor on the ship, just before they’d landed on Deaphus, to tell him that he would not go to Earth, that he would not tolerate being treated as a prisoner. Then, Thor had protested so strongly that he’d nearly sent lightning bolts throughout the ship. Now … there was a tired kind of resignation in his voice, as if he’d already accepted that Loki would leave because there would be no convincing him to stay. 

That was before. Loki tilted his head and gave a small, wry kind of smile. “I do have options,” he said lightly. “On Earth. I can always disguise myself. No one would recognize me as a woman, for instance.” 

Thor’s eyebrows went up - then, abruptly, he laughed. “Am I to call you sister, then? I must admit, after Hela, the word does leave a sour taste in my mouth.” 

“ _ Loki _ will do just fine,” he said, the corners of his mouth turning down at the mention of Hela. Another thing they’d not truly spoken of, neither in the aftermath nor in the months since. There was so much unsaid between them, Loki was beginning to think it would take centuries simply to unravel all of the things that had gone wrong so that they could start at the beginning to make them right again. “Unless you suppose my being a woman would be awkward,” he added lightly. 

“Surely you know me better than that,” Thor said with an eye roll. “You can be a rabbit, for all I care, as long as it means you’ll stay.” 

Something like relief coursed through Loki at the confirmation that Thor still  _ wanted _ him to stay. “Then I suppose I will. Stay,” he responded, as if it did not matter to him either way. His nonchalance faded a moment later, however. “We  _ will _ have to deal with it, brother,” he said quietly. “What’s to be done with me on Midgard. They will know I am there and they will want recompense.” 

The amusement had drained from Thor, as well, and he nodded. “I know, Loki.” He sighed, rubbing his forehead. “We will deal with it. Maybe we can come to some kind of arrangement.” 

_ Some kind of arrangement _ most likely meant Loki giving up his freedom, for whatever length of time the humans deemed necessary. He felt dread coil in the pit of his stomach, but he nodded, albeit unhappily. He understood now the depth of damage his actions had caused and if giving himself over to whatever punishment awaited him would help make amends, then he supposed he could not avoid it. Besides, it would not be like serving a life term in Asgard’s dungeons. Midgard was temporary and life was long. 

“I’m sorry,” Loki said quietly. 

Thor looked up at him and tilted his head slightly. “Sorry for what?” 

“For … for Midgard.” Loki looked down at his hands, suddenly having trouble looking Thor in the eye. “I never apologized to you for what happened - for what I did, I mean. What I put you through. And you deserved at least that much. I’m sorry, Thor.” 

Thor opened his mouth and then closed it. For several tense moments he was so silent that Loki couldn’t even hear him breathing. He dared a glance at his brother’s face and found Thor staring back at him as if he did not know who Loki was. It made Loki nervous. “Say something.” 

With a heavy breath, Thor reached out and grasped Loki’s hand again, squeezing tight. “No, I’m sorry,” he said, and his eye suddenly looked very bright. “I knew you were not yourself, that none of it made sense. I should have questioned more. Hit less.” The twist of his lips was rueful. “I was just … I was so _ angry  _ with you, Loki. I’m ashamed of how angry I was.” 

Loki’s shoulders rose and fell. “Certainly, you had a right to be.” 

Thor lowered his gaze and shook his head. “Not like this. I felt like … like I hated you.” His voice dropped almost to a whisper. “After you fell, I grieved so hard for you that learning you were alive on Midgard felt like a betrayal. I did not understand your anger. I just kept thinking that if I could somehow get through to you, I could take your anger away and you would be my brother again, but I didn’t know  _ how _ . I blamed you for my own unwillingness to see, and I let that anger consume me until I couldn’t even stand to think of you. That’s why I did not intervene nor see you, when you were imprisoned. I couldn’t.”

Loki felt a tightness at the back of his throat. He looked down at his and Thor’s hands, entwined again, and sought to press the pulse points in their wrists together once more. The warmth of Thor’s hand enveloped the cold of Loki’s own. “It’s not your fault,” he admitted. “Really, it isn’t. I told you that he - Thanos - influenced my mind, and that’s true enough, but he fed on feelings that were already there. My rage and resentment and jealousy, it was in me long before Midgard.” 

“Perhaps, but those are natural feelings,” Thor responded. “My inability to understand them does not make them invalid, I see that now. For a long time, I did not want to admit that you were treated differently than I was, growing up. It took literally losing everything for me to let myself see that Father was not all I made him out to be. You knew all along, and you tried to tell me, and I did not listen. And having negative feelings doesn’t give anyone the right to twist them into madness and bend you to his will.” 

“Doesn’t it?” 

Thor looked at him, regret and sorrow shuttering his expression. “Oh, Loki. Of course not.”

The knot in Loki’s throat was threatening to dissolve, but Loki made an effort to swallow it back. His eyes stung. “I feel it does. I feel I deserved what he did to me. If I had been stronger or  _ better _ , I never would have fallen in with him to begin with. I was so stupid, Thor.” 

Thor was shaking his head. “You were vulnerable and he took advantage of it. If I ever get my hands on him …” He trailed off, letting the thought go unspoken. “It does no good to blame yourself for things you cannot change. I know that is a hard lesson to swallow, but it is the truth. Whatever he did to you, I hope you can tell me one day. Or Val. I hope you can get it out of yourself so you can move past it. Because I need you, Loki, by my side. As my brother and my friend. And we can’t have that unless we both let ourselves heal.” 

He knew that Thor was right. For a moment, he considered letting Thor see into his mind the way he’d let Valkyrie, but he knew he’d have to show Thor far more, and Loki simply was not ready for that. Perhaps, eventually, he would be. Perhaps he would never find the words, but he would find the strength to let Thor help him and they could reclaim what they’d lost. Loki thought, momentarily, of Osiris and Seth. They had to rebuild their relationship because the alternative - letting resentment fester into hatred until it destroyed them both - was unacceptable. 

Loki swallowed again, wiping quickly at his eyes. “Careful, brother,” he finally said. “I might think you an imposter if you continue to make so much sense. I thought I was supposed to be the wise one.” 

Thor lifted an eyebrow, the expression so comically doubtful that Loki was offended. A moment later, Thor laughed. “Intelligence doesn’t always equal wisdom, brother. You’ve always had your intellect but it takes a  _ king _ to truly be wise.” 

“Ugh.” Loki scowled. “I should commit regicide for that comment alone. No one would blame me.” 

Thor laughed again. “Not even me. I know you like to show affection by causing bodily harm.” 

“Shut up, Thor.” Loki’s scowl deepened, but only because he was making the effort to hide that he suddenly wanted to smile. Both emotions faded fairly quickly, and Loki let out a tired sigh. “Well. We’ve got a busy couple of days ahead of us and you look exhausted.” 

Thor nodded. “So do you.” 

Loki just shrugged. He still did not want to risk sleeping, but now was not the time to explain that to Thor. He got up instead, his legs feeling a bit stiff for having been crossed for so long. “I have some things to do,” he said simply. “Get some rest, okay?” 

“Sure. As long as you don’t stay up too late.” Thor stretched his legs out, rubbing his calves as he yawned. “See you in the morning, yeah?” 

“Yeah.” Loki did let himself smile then, just a brief tilt of the lips. “I’ll be here.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on [tumblr!](http://iamanartichoke.tumblr.com/) I enjoy new friends :) Comments bring me much joy <3 Thank you SOOO much, everyone who left comments on the last chapter. I'm so sorry I haven't responded individually, this was a hard week, but I read every single one, sometimes more than once, and I appreciate it more than I can say. <3 <3 <3


	30. XXX.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The journey comes to its conclusion.

 

 

**XXX.**

It took three days to get completely prepared to leave. The supplies they’d traded medical help for would not be needed in as great amounts as they’d previously thought, now that their journey was to be shortened considerably, but Briony had still given them more than necessary. “Your journey may not be as long,” she’d said, “but you will be settling anew, and certainly will need provisions until you are further established.”

Neither Thor nor Loki could argue with the logic of it. So they restocked their ship and moved the rest of the refugees back on board. Loki could not help but notice how very different the mood felt compared to when they’d first arrived. A few weeks ago, they had been reeling from their losses; now, as more time passes, many of them had made new friends, gotten to know one another, and begun to look forward to a fresh start in the wake of so much tragedy. Loki overheard several upbeat conversations wondering what Midgard and the humans would be like. The ache of their losses may never completely heal, but they were moving on, looking toward the future.

Even as he worked and traded small talk and occasionally offered a smile or two, Loki felt very much removed from their collective repose. He would not be getting a fresh start on Midgard. His actions followed him like a shadow, ever lurking in the periphery.

Loki thought about what Thor had said - that their lives were still to be long, that eventually, Asgard would have to establish independent of Midgard once again. Thor was not wrong, but Loki knew that the stretch of thousands of years ahead of them would forever be marked by Loki’s brief but debilitating descent into madness. His soul was too mercurial, his actions too damning. His mental break had been hundreds of years in the making and whether the Titan eventually claimed him or he broke free from Thanos’s grip for good, there was always going to be something _inside_ of Loki that separated him from the people he loved. Like a nearly invisible shard of glass between himself and everyone else, it would forever cause Loki to stand with one foot in lightness and the other in darkness, wavering in the gray space in between.

Valkyrie found him around midday on the third day. Most of the work was completed, and Loki had found himself feeling more in the way than anything else, so he’d sought solitude out on the cliffs. He sat at the edge, legs dangling over the precipice. Valkyrie said nothing, but he listened to her approaching footsteps, already very familiar with the lilting shift of her walk. Moments later, he felt her hand brush his shoulder as she settled down beside him, offering him the bottle of drink she carried.

“Thanks,” Loki said simply. He accepted the bottle and took a small sip, and then passed it back to her. Their binge had not changed his general aversion to being drunk, but he was letting his guard down little by little and a bit of drink did not hurt. Either that, or he was beginning to adopt her habits the more time he spent with her.

If that were the case, he hoped it would work the other way, too - that she would drink less the more time she spent with him. So far, however, that did not appear to be likely.

Loki looked over at her. Her hair was loose and the breeze coming off the sea blew it gently away from her face, brushing over her shoulders. He reached out and smoothed some of it down, his fingers carding through the waves, and she smiled at him, leaning into his touch.

“What are you doing out here?” she finally asked.

His shrugged, sliding his fingers once more through her hair before he withdrew. “Thinking.”

“Mm.” Valkyrie tipped her head back, downing the rest of the bottle in one swallow. Then she reached back and threw the bottle out over the sea. They watched it soar, turning end over end before it disappeared from sight. “Oops. Didn’t think it would go that far,” she remarked.

Loki rolled his eyes. “Do you just _forget_ how strong you are, or …?”

“Shut up.” She shoved at his shoulder. “So what are you thinking about?”

A great many things, but precious few that she could help him with. Loki decided to focus on the subject that was lingering at the back of his thoughts. “My mother,” he said simply. He looked away from Valkyrie and back out over the sea. He had not dreamed of Frigga since that first night on Deaphus, when he’d seen her in her garden and she’d hugged him close.

Valkyrie did not reply, just watched him, waiting for him to elaborate. “I had a dream about her, a few weeks ago,” he finally went on, watching far away waves crash into one another. “When we first got here. She told me danger was coming … I was trying to decide if it’s passed, with the Kree and the Tesseract, or if it’s still out there.”

“There’s always going to be danger lurking,” Valkyrie pointed out. She exhaled through her nose and, a moment later, her hand came to rest on his. “You’re worried about Thanos.”

“Yes,” he admitted. He still had not slept, and it was starting to wear on him. The bruises around his neck had faded, but he still felt the Titan’s cold grip every time he closed his eyes. Sometimes, Loki felt like he was going to fall asleep where he stood and, when that happened, he drew on a bit of his seiðr to help the sensation pass.

Eventually, it would not be enough. “I hoped getting rid of the Tesseract would break his hold on me,” he told Valkyrie. “Whatever it is that lets him in. If he occupies himself with searching for the stones, he’ll have no time for me. But …” Loki trailed off, and shook his head. “He’ll come eventually, no matter what I do. It may take him longer, but he’ll come.”

“Maybe,” she acknowledged, curling her fingers around his. Her hands were warm. Everyone’s hands were warm compared to his, something Loki had never noticed before he’d discovered the truth and now could not stop noticing any time he touched someone else, however briefly. “If he does, we’ll be ready. I told you, he’ll never touch you again.”

“That’s an impossible promise to make,” Loki pointed out. “You don’t know what he’s capable of.”

“No,” she admitted, “but I know what _I’m_ capable of. I know what you’re capable of, and Thor, and Heimdall … even the Hulk. Believe it or not, Loki, you do have people who care about you. People who are willing to fight for you.”

How _strange._ Loki scoffed, unable to stop himself, and then pressed his lips together. “I disagree,” he said simply.

Valkyrie sighed. “It’s not an opinion, Loki, that you can agree or disagree on. It simply _is_ , whether you want it to be or not.”

Loki did not argue. He changed the subject instead. “When we get to Midgard … it’s very likely I’ll have to turn myself over to the humans,” he told her. She still had a grip on his hand, and at his words, she entwined their fingers together and squeezed, but gave no other outward reaction. “To make amends for my actions.”

“I don’t think Thor will let that happen,” Valkyrie said, chewing on her lip.

“Thor and I discussed it,” Loki replied with a slight rise and fall of his shoulders. “Did he tell you much about it? What I did there, I mean.”

Valkyrie shook her head, tracing her thumb idly along his knuckles. “No. Only what I told you before - Thor thinks you weren’t in your right mind, and that’s what led you to your crimes.” She looked at him then, tilting her head with faint curiosity. “Does Thor know that you were acting on behalf of Thanos?”

“More or less.”

“Then surely the humans will have room for clemency,” she said, “since you weren’t acting of your own accord and Thor can vouch for that.”

“I don’t think so,” he said, a little dryly. “Thor’s friends - the humans - are … very righteous. They do not easily accept what they cannot understand, and Thanos’s influence on me is not something they can easily understand.”

“Oh.” Valkyrie nodded, her tone just as dry as his. She arched one of her eyebrows. “So you know this based on the many conversations you’ve had with Thor’s friends on the subject?”

Loki rolled his eyes. “I don’t need to speak to them to know how they feel.”

“Do you ever _listen_ to the words that come out of your mouth?” Valkyrie retorted. “At least consider the possibility before you resign yourself to the axe.”

“Why let myself consider a possibility that will not come to pass? Humans carry grudges, Valkyrie, and my actions will be all that they see when they look at me, regardless of whose influence I may have been under at the time.” Loki sighed. Nothing ever faded from memory completely, and nothing ever stayed buried no matter how far beneath the surface it was pressed.

Loki’s time in New York would not remain tucked away in a stretch of time that was barely more than the beat of a heart. Every mistake he’d made, every life he’d taken had settled over Midgard like dust the moment he’d arrived there through the Tesseract’s portal. His madness was cemented in the minds of many, bits and pieces of who he was held in the hearts of humans he’d barely or never met, humans who did not know him at all, like Tony Stark or Steve Rogers. Loki’s foreseeable future was marked by his past, and he was only beginning to realize it when he should have recognized it years ago.

Valkyrie blew out her breath. Instead of arguing with his point, she simply adjusted herself so that she was sitting ever closer to him, sliding an arm around his waist. “We’ll take it one day at a time, how about?” she asked. “I think that, if you let them, people can surprise you. Even righteous ones.”

A flicker of a smile crossed his face as he looked over at her. “Maybe,” he granted. Maybe she could be right, and Loki was simply not letting himself consider it. He did not voice this; instead, he just tipped her chin up with a finger, leaning in to catch her mouth with his own when she looked up at him. Loki did not deserve her or this, but for as long as he was allowed to have it, he would not take it for granted. He felt his pulse quicken as he parted her lips and she responded in kind. There was the echo of mead on her tongue, teasing his, along with the faintest tang of oranges. It made him smile against her mouth.

* * *

That evening, Thor and Loki walked with Briony and Ailidh through the now-empty stronghold as the sun sank low beyond the horizon. At the entrance of each barrack, Ailidh cast her latching spell to lock it up once again. Loki watched as shimmers of gold sprang up from her fingers and materialized into a heavy lock, which Ailidh tugged on once to ensure its strength. By this point, his own seiðr was nearly completely restored. Every now and then he felt a few flickers of lingering weakness, but those would fade, eventually.

Loki followed Ailidh as she crossed to the entrance of the next barrack. “I should very much like to learn that particular spell,” he said quietly. He’d been offended when she’d first offered, and he could tell she remembered that from the way her brows arched slightly. However, she smiled.

“Of course,” she told him.

She was patient as she demonstrated the spell. Loki had a vague assumption of how it worked, based on spells he already knew, and his assumptions were mostly correct. It was a simple enough spell, really, and he accomplished it almost immediately, to his own satisfaction. It never hurt, having a few extra tricks up his sleeve. When Ailidh tugged on the lock that Loki had conjured and found it secure, she gave him a grin. “Nicely done,” she complimented.

Loki smiled back. “Thank you for showing me, Lady Ailidh.” It was a shame; he could have learned this spell weeks ago, along with any others they used that Loki was not familiar with. He could have shown her some of his spells in return, and both would have been better off. A lost opportunity, stacked among many.

“We cannot thank you enough for your healers’ aid in curing our sick,” Briony was saying when Loki and Ailidh rejoined her and Thor. From what Loki knew, over the past few days, more and more patients were recovering after receiving Saija’s cure, and Gerda and Viera had prepared enough of the medicine to leave with Deaphus’s healers in case of any relapse.

“Saija says that the medicine should act as an effective immunization,” Thor said, “so the illness should be gone for good.”

The relief in Briony’s face was apparent as she looked at Thor. Loki thought that there was something else there, as well - admiration, perhaps. Most people looked at Thor that way.

“We’ll likely take our leave in the morning,” Thor went on, returning Briony’s look. “Now that everyone is back on the ship, they’re anxious to leave. Also, the sooner we get Bruce back to Earth, the better.”

Briony gave a hum of acknowledgement. “I don’t quite understand your friend’s condition,” she admitted, “but certainly, being back in his own environment as soon as possible sounds like it’s the best thing for him.”

Thor grinned. “Between our beast and the Kree, I’m surprised you’re not more thrilled to be rid of us,” he remarked, which drew a genuine laugh from Briony.

“Nothing is without its challenges,” she told him, laying her hand briefly on his forearm. “Especially when it’s for the greater good.”

“Fair enough,” Thor agreed with a grin.

They continued to make their way through the stronghold, Loki and Ailidh alternating barracks to help the task move along more quickly. It wasn’t until all of the barracks were locked up and the group was slowly making their way back toward the entrance that Loki asked, “Did you manage to get anything further out of the Kree prisoner?” If there had been any new developments while he and Valkyrie were on Heliopolis, Thor had not mentioned it. Loki remembered the prisoner in the throne room, in chains; he remembered the visceral reaction at seeing himself in the prisoner’s place.

For a brief moment, he could almost feel the chains wrapped around his own body. Soon enough, he would know imprisonment again. Loki did his best to stave off the feeling without changing his facial expression.

“A bit,” Ailidh answered. “We did manage to contact the Kree government, finally, and negotiate for the return of the prisoner. I believe our guards took him back yesterday.”

“On favorable terms, I hope,” Thor said.

“Quite,” Briony agreed. “The prisoner will face justice on his own planet, and any further hostility against us will be considered an act of war. I doubt the Kree will be back. Not here, at least. But …” she hesitated. “I was not sure whether to tell you both this. It may turn out to be nothing.”

Thor tilted his head at her and Loki raised his eyebrows.

“The man we spoke to on behalf of Hala’s government filled us in on some of the things the prisoner would not tell us,” Briony continued after a moment. She looked down, brushing away imaginary lint from her olive-colored skirts. “It seems a complicated situation, but what it comes down to is that they are politically divided on the issue of genetic experimentation.”

“What sort of experimentation?” Loki asked, exchanging a glance with Thor.

“I’m not really sure. The Kree have, in the past, attempted to mix their genetic material with other species in order to create a hybrid of enhanced beings that could be used as weapons.”

“They abandoned the experimentation as failures some time back,” Ailidh contributed, “but it recently came to light that there was some success with humans.”

Thor stopped walking abruptly. Loki remembered, suddenly, that a lone Kree had landed on Earth a few years back, spotted by Heimdall. Loki-as-Odin had sent Sif to retrieve the Kree. She had done so and swiftly taken him back to Hala. At the time, Loki had not inquired of Sif why the Kree was there in the first place. He’d assumed any invasion or attack would have required more than one being, and if the Kree was there to gather information, Sif had intervened too quickly for him to gather anything useful. Loki had also been anxious to send Sif to Alfheim on another mission and keep her away from the palace. He’d forgotten the matter completely in the time that had passed since.

“The prisoner belongs to a group of radicals,” Ailidh was saying, “whose ultimate goal is to continue with these experiments. They are spreading propaganda, trying to recruit others to their cause, and meanwhile the government is trying to eradicate the movement.”

“All right,” Thor said, his brow furrowing, “but what does that have to do with Asgard? Why would this group seek us out to attack?” He’d folded his arms, his stance unassuming, but Loki noticed the hard lines of his forearms, a result of how tensely he was holding himself. Loki decided he would not mention the Kree incident just now. He made his features blank as he looked back to Briony.

“I don’t know,” Briony answered with a shrug. “This group apparently has many irrational ideas. Anyway, as I said, it may end up being nothing to concern yourself with. Asgard may have seen the last of the Kree, too. But you should be aware, regardless, that somewhere down the line, the Kree may set their sights upon your people and upon Earth.”

The lines in Thor’s forearms grew deeper but, to his credit, he did not let the anxiety show on his face. King only for a few months, and already Thor was learning how to effectively shield his emotions. It was a little unsettling. “Right,” he finally said, and blew out his breath. “We’ll definitely keep it in mind.”

Briony gave him a sympathetic look as she twisted her hands together. They fell into step again, silently this time. The stronghold was quiet around them, but Loki imagined he could still hear the laughter and activity that often ebbed and flowed like music. There was something strangely hollowing about the deserted barracks. It was the emptiness of something good coming to an end, the melancholy of not knowing what came next, and the yearning for time to stand still, just long enough to spend more of it where the world made sense.

Loki rubbed his thumbnail into his palm as they walked, considering this little world and how much had happened during their time here. Like the refugees, so had Loki been different when they’d arrived, but whoever he was now, in this moment, could very likely change again once they reached Midgard. At any moment, the tenuous grip on tranquility he’d managed to grasp could slip away from him, sending him spiraling into darkness once more.

At the stronghold entrance, they stopped. Ailidh cast one final latching spell to close up the gates behind them. Loki and Thor would go to the ship, while Briony and Ailidh would continue on to the palace. They would likely never see each other again, Loki thought, and even though he had not spent much time getting to know either woman, he felt a pang of realization that their quiet grace would be missed.

Thor seemed to share the sentiment. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, hesitating on saying goodbye. Loki cleared his throat and spoke first. “Thank you for everything,” he said simply, reaching out to grasp first Briony’s hand and then Ailidh’s. “We’ll not forget the kindness you’ve shown Asgard.”

“And you, as well,” Briony said, giving Loki a smile that was neither warm nor cold but simply regal, polite. Ailidh echoed the sentiment, adding, “Safe travels.”

That finished, Loki stepped away to let Thor say his goodbyes. Thor first brought Ailidh’s hand to his lips, saying something to her that Loki could not hear, and then he moved on to Briony, whose regal expression relaxed into something more intimate. She and Thor grasped hands and a faint blush rose to Briony’s cheeks as Thor leaned in, again speaking words beyond Loki’s reach. When they stepped back from one another, Thor cleared his throat.

“Godspeed, good friend,” Briony said. She squeezed Thor’s hands and then let go. “Remember that you and your people are always welcome here.”

Thor nodded. “As are you, with Asgard,” he responded.

Anything else was left unsaid. Whatever had passed between Briony and Thor was meant only for them, and Loki had no wish to intrude upon it. When they parted ways at last, Loki only reached out and grasped Thor on the shoulder, lingering for a long moment before letting go.

* * *

They departed from Deaphus early the next day. It was strange, after having gotten so used to sharing a room with Thor, to be back in his own quarters on the ship. Even after so many years apart, Loki and Thor had simply naturally fallen back into their routines of sharing space, being aware of the other, adjusting accordingly. Loki had not realized what a comfort it was until he was straightening the sheets on his bed, feeling strangely alone.

Thor was not far, though. Their rooms were connected by the small sitting room where they’d shared drinks one of those first few nights on the ship, when Thor had asked about Loki’s plans and they’d argued over each of their betrayals of the other. It seemed so long ago.

Loki finished smoothing down a crease in the sheets and left the room, not wanting to spend more time in there than necessary. It was too small and quiet, too lonely. According to the timekeepers, it was late morning, and Loki found _dagmál_ in full swing down in the mess hall. Loki went into the kitchen, where he retrieved a few apples, mangoes, and berries. He gathered them into a large, wooden bowl and then carried it down to the level where they’d quartered the Hulk, separated from the rest of the refugees. Loki half-hoped to find Bruce Banner had returned, but it was still the green beast who was pacing around the large area, the green beast who looked up when Loki entered.

“Puny god,” he greeted, and Loki refrained from rolling his eyes. He still did not want to be anywhere near the Hulk, in truth, but he thought extending the tiniest olive branch might go a long way in not finding himself unexpectedly smashed.

“Hello,” Loki responded, stepping just far enough into the room to set the bowl of fruit down. “Thought you might be hungry.”

The Hulk tilted his head for just a moment, as if he did not know what to make of this new development, but the strain of even that much thought must have been too much because he immediately dismissed it and thudded over to the bowl. Loki took several quick steps back as Hulk scooped up the fruit. “Hulk _very_ hungry,” he agreed, devouring one of the apples in two bites. “Thor bring food but Hulk still hungry.”

“Of course.” Loki did roll his eyes, then, but he was a safe enough distance away to do so. “Well. We’ll be on Earth soon, so …” He did not really know what to say after that; anything he told the Hulk would not be remembered by Bruce, and there was something tempting about that, but Loki did not dwell on it. “I’ll bring you more food later, if you want,” he added.

Hulk was already halfway through a rather large mango. “Hulk want,” he said enthusiastically.

“All right.” Loki gave him a nod and then, satisfied with his olive branch, left before Hulk decided that he felt like hitting something. He did seem to be much more calm than usual, and maybe Bruce really did have some element of control that he usually lacked, but Loki did not want to press his luck and find out.

When he got back to the mess hall, he scanned the room until his gaze fell on the table shared by Thor, Heimdall, Valkyrie, and Dagny. Loki hesitated, and then forced himself to cross the hall and join them. He slid quietly into a seat next to Valkyrie. Thor and Heimdall were deep in discussion about what Asgard’s plan of action upon reaching Earth would be, with Valkyrie occasionally interjecting. Dagny reached over and tugged at Loki’s sleeve and, when Loki raised an eyebrow at her, she whispered, “I’ve been practicing. I still want to beat you at _hnefatafl_ before we get to Midgard.”

Loki had forgotten about her vow. He smiled, despite himself, and whispered back, “We’ll play in a little while, okay?”

“Okay.” Dagny grinned and lifted her cup to her lips and Valkyrie, on Loki’s other side, squeezed his hand beneath the table.

* * *

That night, Loki stood by the large window in the sitting room between his and Thor’s rooms, staring out at the wide expanse of space as their ship trudged along. He remembered how silent it had been out there, among them; he remembered falling, falling, waiting for death to catch him and spare him having to live out the rest of his wretched life.

How much he would have missed, had the Norns allowed him to die. He would never have fallen into Thanos’s grip, never have freefallen into dizzying madness, never have suffered physical and emotional torture beyond what he could imagine.

Yet he also would not have found his way back to Thor. He would not have had the chance to build himself back up again, would not have proven his fealty to Asgard and to Thor when it mattered most. He would not have Valkyrie, would not know the peace of life’s simple moments, like being beaten by Dagny in _hnefatafl._ As Loki stared out at the shimmering tapestry draped around their ship, he knew he could not control where life would take him, but in that moment, he was not sorry to still be living it. Perhaps, that sentiment would change. As Valkyrie had said, he could only take it one day at a time. Today, life was kind. It had to be enough, for now.

“It suits you,” Thor said from behind him, causing Loki to flinch in surprise. So lost in his thoughts he’d been, he had not noticed Thor’s entrance. He felt a flicker of annoyance that Thor, of all people, had managed to sneak up on him.

“What does?” he asked, turning just enough to glance at Thor as his brother approached the window to stand next to him.

“You looked peaceful, just now,” Thor explained, folding his arms as he nodded toward Loki’s face. “I haven’t seen that in you in a long time, brother, but it suits you. I miss it.”

Loki frowned, pressing his lips together. He looked back out at the sky. For several moments, they simply watched as the stars floated past, and then Thor spoke again.

“When we get to Midgard,” he said, “I intend to speak with Stark privately, without the rest of the Avengers. Or whoever’s left. Stark is usually reasonable, and perhaps when I explain how things are now …”

“You assume he’ll be lenient with me,” Loki guessed. “On behalf of his government.”

“It can’t hurt to try,” Thor replied.

Loki shrugged, his thumbnail going to his palm. “I very much doubt that Stark will be willing to listen to anything you or I have to say on the matter of New York,” he responded.

“You don’t know him,” Thor reminded Loki, gently. “He’s not so ruthless as you imagine.”

“I threw him out a window.”

Thor laughed, and immediately tried to cover it up with a cough. “I’m sure it’s not the worst thing to happen to him.”

Loki rolled his eyes, his thumbnail immediately going to his palm. “It was a very high window.” Before Thor could reply, he went on, “It’s all right, Thor. I would certainly much rather stay with you and our people, but … I am prepared to accept responsibility for my actions, whatever that may entail.”

Thor looked over at him, lifting an eyebrow. “Now I’m the one suspicious you are an imposter,” he remarked, and Loki smiled a little. “I know you said as much the other night, but … I suppose I’ll always be stubborn, because _I_ am not prepared to accept that just yet.” He reached out, grasping Loki’s shoulder in a tight, comforting grip before letting go again. “We’ll find a way, brother, I promise you.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” Loki warned him. It was not meant to be cutting; Loki’s voice was only resigned with the knowledge that even the best intentions did not lead to success, and that simply wanting something was not enough for it to be had. Loki knew that, at least, better than most.

Resignation settled over Thor’s features, but a moment later, they brightened again. “Let’s have a drink, Loki,” he suggested, and his voice sounded cheerful, though Loki knew him well enough to recognize the effort he was putting into it. Thor turned away from the window and went over to the colorful decanters on the liquor shelf, by the mirror. Loki followed, watching him, feeling an odd sense of familiarity. They’d stood much like this that first night. _I’m here,_ Loki had said, and Thor’s smile had never felt more like the sun.

Now, Thor busied himself with pouring their drinks. “We should get Val in here,” he said, and met Loki’s gaze in the mirror with a brief smile. “What is the saying? The more the jollier?”

“Sure,” Loki agreed mildly. “Let’s go ahead and give the Hulk a drink, too. Make it a real party.”

“You’re insufferable.” Thor reached out to pass Loki a tumbler and then he briefly ruffled Loki’s hair, the gesture irritating enough that Loki scowled.

“Why must you do that?” he demanded, smoothing his hair back in place.

“For the look on your face, mostly.” Thor cupped Loki’s neck affectionately, warmth radiating from his grin. He let go a moment later and lifted his glass. Despite himself, Loki lifted his in return, and they clinked them together before both downing the entire contents.

“Come on,” Thor said, once he’d swallowed. He retrieved a third glass and one of the decanters. “Let’s go find Val. She gives better advice than you.”

“What could you possibly need advice for right now?” Loki asked, offended, but he went with Thor, anyway. They left the sitting room, taking the hall that would lead them to Valkyrie’s quarters at the opposite end of the level.

“The kind having to do with women,” Thor replied.

“Briony?”

“No. Well, sort of.” Thor exhaled, suddenly looking serious. Loki remembered Thor’s reluctance to leave her the previous day. He’d been so wrapped up in himself, he had not even _noticed_ whatever connection Thor had made with Briony, and now it was already gone. “She is … very intriguing, and we got on quite well, but she is a queen of her own world, and I am king of mine. Asgard must come first, and she is too far removed.”

“But if she wasn’t …?”

Thor’s shoulders rose and fell. “She is, and I’ve learned well that there is no use in wishing for things that cannot come to pass. Maybe one day, things will be different. But not now.”

Loki understood Thor’s point. “Then what’s troubling you?”

“Jane,” Thor said with a slight grimace. “I must admit, these past few days, as I’ve been thinking about Midgard, I find myself thinking on how our paths might cross and, if they do, how we are to proceed. I’d just like a woman’s perspective on … on such things.” Thor actually looked a bit embarrassed.

“I would not know,” Loki admitted, after some consideration. “But remember, brother … everything is temporary. Jane as well.”

“Yes, I know.” Thor forced a grin, nudging his shoulder against Loki’s. “A king cannot be wise _all_ the time. Even kings with wisdom such as I may now and again act on feelings and whims.”

“And you say _I’m_ the insufferable one,” Loki said dryly.

Thor just laughed. They’d reached Valkyrie’s quarters, and Thor lifted a hand to knock. Very quickly, Valkyrie opened the door, greeting them with a finger to her lips. She glanced over her shoulder. “It took Dagny forever to fall asleep,” she whispered. “She’s extremely riled up. Can’t wait to cross the bridge to Earth and try out something called a … bicycle?”

Loki snorted. “You can thank Bruce for that one.”

“I’ll do that, as soon as he’s back.” She slipped out the door, closing it gently behind her. Then she folded her arms and surveyed the brothers, one eyebrow lifting. “What’s going on? You two look like you’re up to no good.”

“That’s fair. We thought you’d like to have a drink with us,” Thor said, holding up the decanter.

“Do you even need to ask?” Valkyrie accepted the glass he passed to her, and they three wandered further down the hall to a smaller sitting room. Valkyrie dropped down onto a sofa, gesturing for the decanter, which Thor passed to her. Loki settled in beside her, and she reached out to squeeze his arm affectionately before letting go again. Thor sat in an armchair opposite, and cleared his throat.

“So, Val,” he began, “what do you know about failed courtships?”

Valkyrie’s response was to roll her eyes and dramatically pour alcohol into her glass. Loki laughed, settling back into the sofa’s cushions. He looked at Valkyrie and then at Thor as he sipped his own drink, listening to them banter back and forth. Occasionally, he interjected with a sarcastic remark or an eyeroll. The overall feeling of camaraderie was both very unfamiliar for Loki and yet pleasant, all the same. As the evening pressed on and the drinks passed easily between them, Loki allowed himself to rest his head against Valkyrie’s shoulder, closing his eyes when she stopped talking long enough to press a kiss to his temple. It was one of the last things he was cognizant of before, finally, he slipped into a light, dreamless sleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that ... is that. 
> 
> Thank you so, so, so much for sticking with me and leaving your comments and kudos. If it weren't for the amazing feedback I've gotten, I likely would have abandoned this story ages ago. You guys kept me going when I didn't think I could, and I appreciate it more than I can say. This story began as kind of a head-first dive into the deep end of fanfic, and I feel like I've written a story that, while not without its flaws, I can be proud of. I hope that you all have truly enjoyed reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it. 
> 
> A couple of things: 
> 
> 1\. The Kree plot resurfaced here because what I originally intended to do with it got too convoluted for this story, and frustrated me when I was trying to write it, which led to me growing bored with it and setting it aside. It will be revisited as a tie-in to Agents of SHIELD in the sequel to this story. (If you don't watch Agents of SHIELD, fret not, the relevant information will be included in the story's narration.) 
> 
> 2\. There may or may not be a one-shot eventually that shows what was going on with Thor and Briony, which Loki was completely unaware of. I always intended for Briony and Thor to have a thing, but I couldn't make it work while staying strictly in Loki's POV, so I set that aside, too. 
> 
> 3\. As I said, there will be a sequel to this story. I'm not sure when I'll start posting it, but it will be coming, so stay tuned. 
> 
> 4\. Finally, feel free to say hi to me on [tumblr!](http://iamanartichoke.tumblr.com/) I post about my writing/fic and general Loki feels, and always welcome new friends. :) 
> 
> Again, thank you all so much for your support! I will be back soon!


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